


Seeds Of Hope

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison being a bratty sister, Angst, Anxiety, Artificial Insemination, Ben is tired of Klaus’s stupidity, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forced Vaginal Fingering, Forced hand job, Grace being a good mother, Jealously, Klaus Being A Good Brother, Klaus being an idiot, Luther being a complete blond, Manipulation, Molestation, Pregnancy Scare, Psychological Spiral, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Reginald Spinning His Web Of Lies, Rumors, Self Harm, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Obsessions, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, Vanya and her powers, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: Vanya is just a ordinary girl in an extraordinary family. She wants to be closer to everyone but she's always being left behind. Lately her anxiety has been making it hard to sleep at night.Reginald gives her medication to help her fall asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

The house is quiet as if all of its inhabitants are dead. 

Vanya highly doubts it's that but even so she can't get the possibility out of her head. Her whole family being slaughtered while she's lying in her bed. The screams from far off while she presses her fingers in her ears and prays for it to be over. Then the waiting. Waiting for this madman to come to her room, with a bloodied knife to end her life only to watch him leave.

That would be the worst part waking each and every day knowing she wasn't killed because she's ordinary.

There's a creak in the hallway and giggles follow after. She lets a sigh coat her lips, fortunately, her visions never come true. Ordinary people can't change the tides of fate like that.

Vanya places her feet against the cold hardwood before standing and taking slow steps to the door. She opens it only a bit to prevent its creaking scream to reach her sibling's ears.

"If you don't shut up you're staying here." 

The words are whispers that she can barely understand before a creak quiets them. She's heard it before it's the telltale sign that her siblings are escaping. They're going out of Five's window and into the real world like their house is something to fear.

"Sorry to ruin your night but I have the money. I can't stay here if you want a donut." There's a round of giggles but it's trailing off. They're leaving and nobody even asked if she wanted to go. 

They never do.

She knows this and yet each time her heart constricts against her chest. It feels like she's just been betrayed and yet in truth she couldn't have been. You have to be close for this to be considered a betrayal. Even if she knows that it doesn't stop the tears from pricking her eyes.

She lets go of the doorknob and lets the door swing open because there's nobody left to hear her cry.

————————————————————

Vanya stands beside her father while he barks orders at her untamable siblings. Their disobedience is being punished with meaningless, repetitive work.

Cleaning.

They are dusting, scrubbing, and wiping each and every room despite the fact that there isn't any dirt to clean. Grace cleans every day, this is just a simple punishment to drive her siblings insane.

Vanya stands and smiles at her brooding siblings, her presence is meant to be an example. If they didn't do something they weren't supposed to do they wouldn't need to be doing this. She watches Five mumbles underneath his breath as he wipes off a table. She peers over the living room couch at Klaus who seems more interested in sniffing the bottle of cleaner than cleaning.

Allison dusts with a feather duster because she can't stand getting cleaner on her nails. Apparently, her nail polish is important to her. Vanya wouldn't consider it important but then again she's never really wore anything like that.

Ordinary people didn't.

Vanya keeps looking back and forth between her siblings. She feels bad for them even though she should be mad. She should be mad that she's not beside them in their punishment. She should be mad that she didn't get to experience whatever they did.

She isn't mad.

In fact, Vanya almost can't bear to watch her siblings slave over the minimalist tasks. It seems like a form of torture. Reginald barks out another order- one to Luther to move the couch and sweep out all the dirt underneath it. Luther does so without complaints.

"Don't feel bad for them." Reginald said before turning to her and placing a hand on her head "They don't deserve your pity." She knows and yet her heart still yearns to care for them. 

Her father's hand is heavy on her head- a sign of praise her siblings never often received. She felt special in front of them as if she is somehow extraordinary to him. The hand on her head trails down the side of her face before he tilts her head up.

"Your heart is very big Seven. You mustn't let it control you." She nods as float through one ear and out the other. Her father drops his hand before returning to barking orders as if the exchange had never happened.

Even so, she still felt so special. Her head was fuzzy with the very idea of being held on a nice little pedestal above her siblings. It's wishful thinking of course but she still imagines it anyway.

————————————————————

"Daddy's little girl." Allison coos while running a hand through Vanya's hair. Vanya's cheeks flush pink before she pulls away and glares at her sister.

"It's not like that." She brings a hand up to straighten the hair her sister had knotted. "I'm not special." 

"Cry me a river why don't you?" Allison rolls her eyes before turning away and taking a seat on the coach that's freshly cleaned. "You don't have to be special to be perfect."

Vanya stills in place in the middle of the living room. It feels as if she's being threatened. She isn't perfect in any regard and yet she isn't a complete mess. Shes just somewhere in the middle, a happy medium. 

She's ordinary.

She looks away and drops the hand from her hair. She tangles the hand in her skirt, the nice soft fabric while her face heated up. She hates being put on the spot and her sister has to know that. It's precisely the reason why she's talking to her now and not going to fix her pink nail polish.

Vanya takes a deep breath before opening her mouth. Her excuse, she was going spew didn't even get a chance to taint her lips because Diego had popped in the doorway and spoke over her.

"Mother wants us to help plant flowers." Allison smiles before standing and making her way out. Vanya isn't included, she isn't in this. Those were flowers her siblings had picked out a few days with father. Roses of different shades with many, many thorns.

She remembers her siblings bringing the roses home, and how they sat for days mocking her in the grand hall before being moved to the backyard. Each time she saw them it made her feel jealous but also guilty. She knew it was wrong to feel such feelings when her siblings were so happy.

It wasn't like she was unhappy herself. 

She watches her siblings go, she hears their conversation and wishes she could join. She doesn't bother trying because being scolded breaks her heart.

She just sighs, a sigh of neither anger or frustration just pure contentment.

————————————————————

Vanya peers out from the window below which her siblings are helping their mother plant the pretty roses. She lays her hands on the windowsill and peers closer.

Diego is helping dig holes with a gardening shovel. Allison is pointing, maybe helping to pick which rose goes where. Then there's Luther who doesn't really seem to be doing much of anything aside from bugging Allison.

Vanya enjoys watching them and seeing smiles on their faces. She knows Grace would gladly accept her help and allow her that same freedom but her siblings wouldn't. She wouldn't dare try and join while Luther is out there. He's always had a distaste for her.

A blue light glows from behind her casting her shadow on the window. She stills for a moment even though she knows it's just Five. She can't help her reflexes, she's always been sensitive.

"That's creepy." Five said while stepping beside her and peering out at her siblings too. "You seem like some sort of stalker when you watch from in here."

"I-" she stops mid-sentence feeling the heat travel up her neck "sorry." She turns away and starts walking down the hallway uninterested in embarrassing herself anymore.

Five takes a few steps but ultimately decided not to follow. He was just teasing her, she knows, but she's not in the mood.

————————————————————

Reginald likes to read.

Nothing that he reads interested Vanya but it was something that he did that made him seem human. Although it was really hard to see him as some evil mastermind as her siblings do. She only knows through her siblings about how terrible some of their training is.

Yet, here at home, he's never really giving off an evil aura. He's strict, proper, and expects perfection. That doesn't make him a monster.

Sometimes she finds it hard to believe her siblings but she has to face that their words have some truth to them. She could count on her a hand the number of times she had seen it with her own eyes-How heartless her father could be.

Even though she knows she still walks closer, she still tilts her head and she still reads over his shoulder, and when he turns his attention to her she freezes. All she wants to do is get closer to him and yet it seems like she has to walk a thousand miles to make a difference in their relationship.

She wants to be his daughter and she wants him to be her father. She just wants them to be close like they're a real family.

"It's titled 'At The Mountains Of Madness'" Reginald said closing the book before extending it toward Vanya. She grasps it, her fingertips brush against her father's and for a moment she felt his cold skin. She turns the book so she can read the print on top, the author is H.P Lovecraft.

The name sounds familiar but she can't say for sure where she's heard it before. Does her father like this author? Had he talked about him before? She opens the book up and scans some of the pages.

Big long words stretched across the page and she couldn't get through an entire sentence without stopping. It is confusing, and she probably needs a dictionary to really understand what's going on. A scientist is the main character, at least she thinks so.

She peers up at her father who had been observing her. She wonders if he knows that this book is far too advanced for her. "Do you...like this book?" She asks, her voice a light whisper while she shuts the book.

Reginald nods while reaching a hand out gesturing for the book, she hands it back. "You could say I'm intrigued by this book and the author's many works. His works were the advent of a new age of horror, a horror based on the idea that the one truest human fear is the fear of the unknown." Reginald said with some sort of passion and Vanya felt her heartbeat. This small, insignificant conversation gave her more information about her father. 

He likes this author and his books. If she were to read one, would he be proud? For Reginald she'd do it, she'd read and read until her head hurt.

Anything to bring them closer is worth it.

"It's a book worth reading if you ever have the chance," Reginald said before standing and taking a step before leaning over and running his fingers over a table. He looks at his fingers, probably considering how good of a job her siblings had done before turning back to Vanya.

"Seven would you assist me with something?" It's a question, but in reality, the only acceptable answer is yes. Not that she'd ever considered saying no, she always wants to help. She wants to be good, be better, be everything Reginald wants her to be.

She wishes she could be more than ordinary.

Reginald walks and Vanya follows with a small smile on her lips. If she helps, he'll think more highly of her. When she helps, he'll pat her head. After she helps, she can boast.

She feels goosebumps travel down her airs as if her body is trying to tell her that she's having terrible thoughts. She shouldn't rub things in her sibling's faces even though they'd do the same. It's weird coming from her, or maybe she's too nice. Too nice to the people who barely acknowledge her existence.

Vanya has no right to be considering such thoughts. She's doing this out of the kindness of her heart and not just because of the potential praise or the fact that she doesn't really have a choice.

————————————————————

The armchair in her father's office is soft, surprisingly so. It's a wonder why he doesn't use it when he sits at his desk instead of the wooden one. She couldn't say if there is deeper reason aside from that's what he prefers.

A fire crackles in the corner and its warmth casts shadows across the room. It's a thing of comfort, and of fear. It's hard not to imagine the fire getting out of control and burning the house down.

"Here." Reginald slides across the desk a small stack of papers. The first paper has a picture of Luther on it and lines upon lines with questions.

'What's his favorite food?' One of the questions reads and another one reads 'What's his favorite book?'

There's one question that's crossed off with black ink and no matter how much she squints at it she can't figure it out. "Don't worry about that one." Her father's words startled her and she looked up a little too fast for comfort. A feeling is bubbling in her stomach and it's probably embarrassment.

"Okay." She whispers and her father places his elbow against the desk and leans on his hand. He looks tired like he could just fall asleep right here.

"The Umbrella Academy was requested at a jeopardy game. It's nothing too complicated, our fans will play and all we have to do is send in these sheets."

Vanya look through them Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, and Ben. She isn't here, not that she expected to be. She's never been part of the Umbrella Academy and she doubts her siblings would ever let her be a part even if she could convince her father.

"I can't fill these out. I don't know this much about them." Her cheeks flush because she knows if she was a better sister she would know. Reginald had to know she didn't know, he's the person who put walls between her and her siblings. "I'm sorry..." she pushes the stack of papers back.

"That's just as expected I suppose," Reginald said before leaning back in his chair and rummaging through a drawer. "I'll have them do it at some point then." His rummaging stops and brings up a pill bottle. "Here, start taking two each night before bed."

She didn't have to ask why or what they were for. She already knows, it's been eating her up for weeks. Her thoughts always run out of control when she's in bed, all alone and all she can see are the shadows dancing across her ordinary room. This will help her sleep, right? She must assume so.

"Thank you." She stands and takes the bottle offered to her before waiting a moment. Reginald waves his hand as he goes to write in a journal.

She is dismissed.

————————————————————

Her siblings would groan if allowed to she can tell by their faces. The paper is simple in nature but somehow she finds it a possibility that her siblings had never really been asked such simple questions before.

Five hands his paper in first, which is a little surprising since he likes to make sure everything is perfect. Reginald looks over the paper before nodding and Five leaves. One after another his siblings hand their papers in until it's just Klaus.

Klaus who is tapping his pencil against his head and staring at the paper like it's a complicated math quiz. He writes stuff down but Vanya highly doubts that there's any real thought in his answers. He's probably writing whatever will fit in the blank so he can get this over with.

Eventually, he does stand and hand it in. Reginald looks it over and narrows his eyes at an answer before another until he nods. Klaus leaves almost sighing a breath of relief.

Vanya would love to see what he put down but she isn't really supposed to nose about. 

————————————————————

Vanya tips her head back as she drinks water to help swallow her new pills. It wasn't like she couldn't do it without the water but she just didn't feel comfortable doing so. It'd terrible to choke on them and end up blue in the infirmary.

Of course, that's just her anxiety talking, like always.

The pills travel down her throat with the water and she sighs placing the glass beside her bed before getting in. She crawls underneath her blankets and curls up on her side facing her wall.

She closes her eyes while a fog of drowsiness settles over her mind. She felt relieved for a moment that she wouldn't spend the night contemplating her own death, her faults, or how ordinary she really is.

————————————————————

She felt weirdly heavy as if held down by the confines of her mind. It's freezing and she tries to roll over in an attempt to contain her body heat. Her body didn't listen, it felt like somebody had chained her down to the bed with weights too heavy.

She wonders if this is a nightmare.

She'd didn't dream often but this was nothing like the small fantasies she has. Dreaming of being extraordinary to her siblings and gaining their trust. She's always imagining the warmth she would receive from a hug or a pat on the back from one of her brothers. Sometimes she dreams of Allison doing her makeup and telling her how pretty she looks.

Her dreams make her want to cry.

Still, with her dreams, she's never quite felt like this as if in a way she's still awake. Her eyes refuse to open, her body won't move, but she can feel the bed underneath her. How soft it is, and the fact that her body is so cold.

She must have kicked off her blankets and that's why a cold air keeps on blowing over her skin. Up and down her arm, trailing over her belly, sometimes it trails underneath her shirt and over her chest while leaving goosebumps covering her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always tags will be updated as the story progresses. This will get dark so I recommend bringing tissues.


	2. Chapter 2

Vanya didn't want to get out of bed.

Her body felt weirdly sensitive as if red hot needles were piercing her skin. She didn't move and only blinked aimlessly at her window while her the sounds of her siblings getting up surrounded her. Almost felt like they were right beside her and she has to throw a hand over her ears.

They don't care that they're being loud.

She doesn't have to get up although usually, she does anyway. Reginald expects them up early because they need every minute of daylight for training and planning. Of course that only applies to the Umbrella Academy so shes allowed to sleep in until breakfast but she likes to support her siblings.

Even if they don't support her.

She sighs as she rolls over in her bed and closes her eyes. Today she isn't getting up.

————————————————————

She woke with grogginess in her head and a thousand thoughts rumbling inside. She remembers her dream, no matter if it was nothing more than a passing moment in time, she knows how it felt. The cold running over her body and the way it almost felt real

She sits up and she has to close her eyes to stop the room from spinning. She gets dressed on unsteady feet and barely makes it to breakfast. She wonders if this is just a result of those pills.

She brings a hand up and smooths her hair as she sits in her seat and waits for breakfast to be served.

Grace cooks breakfast with practiced hands and a cookbook in her mind. She never complains, never falters, and her meals are always delicious. She sets a plate in front of each seat, apart from the two closest to Reginald.

Vanya likes eggs and pancakes. 

It's not like Vanya is picky but she does have a distaste for oatmeal. So she eats the eggs and pancakes without a second thought and she keeps her head down. She doesn't want to stare she's been told that's rude. It's hard not to though when her father is seated directly across from her no matter how long the table is.

In that same regard, she can feel eyes on her, observing her every move. As if she's fascinating or maybe like she's something to be cautious of. That isn't true of course, she's probably the most religious rule follower right behind Luther. So maybe her father's worried about the fire that's heating her back, she knows she is or maybe he's just lost in thought.

That doesn't make her any less self cautious. She feels the need to eat, stay occupied, and never meet her father's eyes. Of course, though she still hears the silverware clicking off plates, wood being carved, and almost audible boredom.

Breakfast never changes and she's fine with that.

Grace comes around and Vanya holds her hand out almost automatically. Her mother drops two pills in her palm. It's Anxiety medication she takes three times a day, every day of every week. 

Today it seems like she really needs it.

————————————————————

After breakfast, Reginald disappears and with him he takes Diego. It's always strange when her father leaves because somehow the air just feels lighter. Her siblings are more lively, freer, and it seems like an invitation for everyone to do their own thing.

Normally she'd practice the violin but she doesn't want to spend another day making her sibling's ears bleed. She's practicing, learning a new skill, it's a given she isn't going to be good at first. It seems like her siblings don't understand that. So she puts the violin on the back burner for today.

Five lets her tag along with him and she's grateful. He's the only one of her siblings who doesn't have a bone to pick with her or at least he keeps quiet about it. It might be because she listens and nods like she understands when he speaks.

She appreciates Five she really does and yet she can't get her thoughts to stop circulating in her mind. Is Five only using her as a stepping stone? Is he only allowing them to share the same space because Reginald told him he can't? Does he only want to be rebellious? Somehow she's fine with those thoughts although it makes her heart feel weird.

It's being crushed by the weight of knowing that she's nothing more than a tool for him...

Vanya sits on the floor in Five's room with her knees pulled up to her chest and her hands wrapped around her legs. She's content to watch as Five scribbles on paper and occasionally says something about equations. She doesn't really understand time travel all that much but it seems like Five knows enough for the both of them.

Five fills an entire sheet of paper with scribbles before he looks up at her. He looks at her with a gaze she'd only describe as calculating and it makes her get that weird sense of embarrassment. She pulls in her knees ever so tighter and hopes he just ignores it.

It isn't normal, how uncomfortable she gets just by being looked at. She always blames the feeling on her anxiety acting up but in truth, it's probably just the fact that she's been forced to blend into the background for most her life. So when the spotlight is put on her it blinds all of her senses.

"Dad-" Five starts and she's already giving him glares- in the confines of her mind of course. Reginald hates when they use anything other than 'Father' to address him in the house. "Fancies you."

If she can keep her glares under control why can't she do the same with her blush? Her cheeks burn and she feels her eyes widen just a degree. She looks away from her brother's gaze while digging her nails into her skirt.

"He doesn't." There's no way he does in any real sense. The Umbrella Academy is the only thing her father cares about.

"You can't lie to yourself forever." Five said almost underneath his breath and She waits for him to go on. It's quiet for a good moment and when she turns back he's writing again.

She lets a breath escape her lungs, one she hadn't even known she was holding. Five is wrong, she's not fancied as he put it. It's more likely that her father can tolerate her more than her siblings due to her obedience... and because she's ordinary.

Footsteps echo in the hallway and she turns her head to peer out the doorway. Only to see Klaus opening the door to her room and allowing that terrible creak to be heard.

————————————————————  
Klaus is the only other sibling which can remotely stand her. In fact, he'd probably like her ten times more if she could keep her mouth shut. It's not her fault she cares about him and doesn't like it when he does drugs.

She'd never have a good conscience if she watched him down a handful of pills and stayed silent. She can understand though how he might see her as a threat or annoying when all she's ever doing is putting a damper on his fun.

But those are sleeping pills and she's pretty sure Reginald hadn't meant for anyone else to take them aside from her. So it's justifiable that her heart drops when she sees him down a handful. It's justifiable that she doesn't face him because he'd just walk around the subject.

It's justifiable that she ran to Grace with tears in her eyes and a tremble in her hand. She's worried about him- what if he has a bad reaction to them. What if he gets sick? What if he...

If anything happens to Klaus it'd be all her fault and she couldn't live with that.

She tries to explain it to her mother while lightly tugging on her hand and practically dragging her up the stairs. She doesn't stop her rambling or excessive tugging until she walks past a bathroom. In which a sound from inside forces her to stop. She peers at it until she hears it again- the sound of gagging and arguing.

She isn't sure how those two things mix.

Grace opens the door just a smudge and peers inside before opening it completely. Klaus has his head over the toilet and he's throwing up. Ben is sitting on the sink with his legs crossed and a book in his hands. Either barely acknowledge the door opening.

It smells disgusting Vanya decides and throws a hand over her nose. "If you aren't going to pat my back get lost," Klaus says with some sort of venom and at first she fears that directed at herself but Ben responses. She takes a deep breath.

"And what? Tell you I'm okay with you downing pills whenever you want?" Ben looks up from his book and glares at Klaus. "In your dreams."

Klaus mumbles something under his breath before bringing a slick finger up to his mouth and shoves it inside. 

He's making himself sick. 

"Don-" she starts but her mother completely cuts her off.

"Darling, no! Don't do that!” Grace rushes inside and places one hand on his back and another on his hand attempting to stop him. It's too late, he's already throwing up. So grace just rubs a hand on his back and casts some of the most caring eyes Vanya's ever seen.

She wants to put a hand on Klaus back too. She wants to tell him that he's not supposed to make himself sick. She wants to ask why he's doing such things. 

She doesn't take a single step into the bathroom. Ben's right...she shouldn't care for him in those ways because then he'll think it's okay for him to steal her medication. It's not okay, it'll never be okay. Even if she can think those thoughts she still wants to run over and hug him.

Even if she did she couldn't do much, she's nothing but ordinary and that didn't leave her with many options. So she stood in silence with only the sound of puke hitting water and gaging surrounding her.

All she could feel was the guilt bubbling inside her stomach. She was making herself sick by forcing herself to look away. She needs to stop letting her heart control her thoughts.

————————————————————

In the very moment that the front door opens and her father returns her siblings put down everything to line up in the grand hall. All except for Klaus who Grace insisted should lie down and she wasn't taking no for answer. Not that Klaus put up much of a protest.

Vanya doesn't join them but she watches from the second-floor railing. Diego walks in behind her father, doesn't look hurt and it's a relief even though she hadn't expected him to be.

Diego usually did all his training in the backyard and sometimes she watched. She'd see Reginald digging lines in the dirt and Grace putting up a target or sometimes holding an object for him to hit. He seemly mastered throwing knives in the backyard. So It's possible that Reginald took him to a place where Diego could throw from a longer distance.

Reginald takes off his coat and hands it to grace who first whispers something in his ear. Something that makes him Scowl before she turns and hangs the coat up. Her father shifts his attention to his line of children and talks. 

Vanya leans over the railing a safe distance to try and hear what her father is saying but it's pointless. It's too quiet and far away for her to hear anything other than meaningless sounds.

It's quick, it always is. 

Her father always keeps every conversation brief even the ones where he's the only one speaking. Soon everyone disperses and go in different directions. Mostly to clean up whatever mess they made before Reginald has a chance to set his eyes on it.

Reginald looks up at her as if he knew she had been watching the entire time. She almost jumps from the sheer fact that he had acknowledged her staring. He opens his mouth and she braces herself to be scolded even though she hasn't broken a rule.

"Seven!" Reginald said and his voice bounced off each wall and she stands up a hair straighter. "Please retrieve the violin." She's on her way to her room without a question in her mind. She does what she's told when she's told because that's what good children do.

Still when she sees Klaus door shut all she can do is look away.

She reaches her room and grabs the violin in its case off the small chest at the bottom of her bed before heading back to her father. She walks downstairs with the violin case hugged close to her chest and her gaze on the floor. When she does finally reach her father she extends the case out to him and gives a small smile.

He stares at it for a moment and he doesn't even flinch or attempt to take it. Her smile falters and a knot starts forming in her stomach. "I didn't request you to retrieve it because I wanted it." He said his voice calm and one tone. She lets the hand with the violin drop beside her as the knot twists in her stomach.

She opens her mouth to apologize because she had assumed too much but before she has a chance her father speaks. "I wish to hear you play." It's simple, said without any real emotion behind it yet it sets her heart on fire. The smile returns to her lips again and she presses the violin against her chest.

————————————————————

She knows she's being watched even though her eyes are closed while she focuses on the sounds she's making. She presses the bow to the violin strings ever so carefully in all the ways she practiced. It's still scratchy, and incomplete sometimes.

The knot in her stomach just gets bigger and she feels how her heart drops each time she makes a mistake. This is a time she's supposed to impress her father but the only thing she's doing is making him see what a failure she is. When she opens her eyes she sees him, his face painted with indifference but when he hears a mistake he narrows his eyes and frowns.

He isn't afraid to react to her mistakes, unlike her mother who keeps smiling even when she messes up.

The last note is a tad too high regardless she lowers the violin as her eyes water. She doesn't meet his gaze. Her father stands from the couch and takes a few steps until he's standing in front of her. 

She knows she's got a long way to go but... she'd be devastated if he decides to take back the violin. It's the only thing she has that she can possibly use to rid herself of that ordinary stigma that follows her.

"You've improved." Her father said while bringing a hand up and wiping away a tear that had begun to paint her cheek. "It's nothing close to perfect mind you but improvement is all that's important." The knot settles in her stomach as she soaks in his words.

She wasn't playing that badly... it was simply her father's presence that made every small mistake seem like the end of the world. She's fine, this is fine, her father says she's doing fine.

She takes a deep breath while her father's cold hand sits on her cheek cooling the heat in them. She has to stop herself from melting into the comfort it provides. Maybe her father does fancy her-just a little or maybe her father's expectations for her are just a bar lower than her siblings.

She can't help the way her heart aches at her own thoughts. Even so this small act of praise- physical and spoken lets her lips make a genuine smile.

"Thank you." She whispers as the palm leaves her cheek and instead goes to her collar where it smooths the rumbled fabric. Her father doesn't acknowledge her thanks but he does have a softness about his indifference.

————————————————————

Vanya bends down and pokes at the roses in the backyard. Their petals a deep red and their stems full of thorns. Her finger is pricked by one of them and she sticks it in her mouth while the taste of metallic metal fills her mouth.

It didn't taste all that disgusting but if it was somebody else's it'd probably be. She stands up and bumps her head off something. Inside her ears a sickening crack echos. Her head pounds and she places a hand against the back of her head.

"Terrific," Diego mutters as he rubs his chin and a little line of blood drips from his lips. He must have bitten his lip and it was all her fault.

"I'm so sorry." She casts her eyes toward the ground and she notices the watering can in her brother's hand. She supposes it makes sense that he'd take flower duty.

"It's fine." Diego wipes the line of blood away and steps around her to pour water on the growing rose. "Just pay more attention to your surroundings."

She feels butterflies in her belly because he's actually communicating with her. He usually glares and says something rude but lately he hasn't been. He's been beginning to show her some sort of understanding although it has less to do with her and more to do with his growing hatred of Reginald.

He's only treating her with respect to rebel against their father- just like Five does. It hurts somewhere deep in her chest to know that.

"They're pretty," Vanya says as Diego moves to water another plant. Diego mumbles a noise of agreement but doesn't try to continue the conversation.

————————————————————

Night falls faster than Vanya would have liked. She hasn't had enough time to decide whether she's happy about her father's praise or if she's guilty because of Klaus. Either way, she feels empty.

As if she's missing something but she can't really place what it is. She takes a sip of water to dampen her tongue and throat before downing two pills. She wonders why Klaus didn't like them but quickly shakes that thought out of her head. It's time for her to sleep and wake up tomorrow when everything is in the past.

Moonlight inches across her bed and it shifts as she crawls in her blankets. Yesterday she didn't get to appreciate it, the nice drowsy feeling that the pills give her. Now as she throws a hand underneath her pillow and lays on her side facing the window she does.

This is usually the time when she questions every life decision she's ever made but right now it feels like somebody is taking out all of her brain's wires. Each one that's removed makes it easier for her to keep her eyes shut and her thoughts contained in cages where they are no longer able to bother her.

————————————————————

Again she's having this dream- unable to move and forced to endure the cold. Although it's just a dream she finds her herself consumed by a fear she hadn't had before. A strange simple fear that swirls in her stomach.

Its cold air is different now, it's cold embrace is more heavily set against her. Each time the cold runs down her arms she feels the need to finch but she can't. When the cold rubs over her stomach she feels butterflies and all she wants to do is rollover.

Then she feels the cold rub her thigh before slowly creeping up until it touched her right where she's sensitive. A small movement light across her privates that make a noise taint her lips. It's small, weak, and if she could she'd probably blush even it's only a dream.

The cold stops, almost immediately and all of a sudden she feels the blanket against her. She feels the warmth returning to her as she is left to wonder if this is just another form of torture her mind is putting her through. 

Somebody mumbles something.

She knows she heard it, something that she couldn't understand. It sounded almost like the person said it while they were underwater. Although it could have been more like a voice behind a layer of tv static.

Are the pills making her dreams like this? It's hard to say for sure that five minutes of strange dreams isn’t worth a good night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will pull some heart strings~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Non-con elements ahead]
> 
> This chapter is lighter than I had originally planned but it progressively goes down hill from here. This is mainly one huge downward psychological spiral that will make more sense soon enough.

Her eyes flutter open and her head pounds. it's still dark outside, so very dark that it seems like the moon isn't even out indicating that the sun will soon be up. She’s up early, not very, but early enough that she can get more sleep. She tilts her head against her pillow although the movement is sluggish she just wants to go back to sleep.

She closes her eyes and listens to crickets. Then she rolls over and stares at her nightstand. There's nothing else she can look at really. It's wooden, ordinary, and missing something that was on it when she went to bed.

The pills are gone.

She narrows her eyes as if that could help her see something that isn't there. She swallows but her throat is so dry that it just makes it burn. She sits upright and curses her body for burning at the simple movement. She swings her feet around and stands up although her mind is foggy. 

She grabs her glass so that she can go get a glass of water. The pills she'll have to deal with in the morning. She tiptoes down the hallway because she's considerate of her siblings. Then she makes it the staircase in which Grace is usually at but she isn't. 

The spot is empty.

She shakes her head and travels down the stairs. The house seems so creepy when there's no one else awake. Moonlight barely illuminates the corners and sometimes she can imagine creatures living there. She tries not to look at them.

A light is glowing off the grand hallway's floor and it's coming from the living room. It's a hot orange glow and she can only imagine it comes from the fireplace. She walks down the stairs with one hand on the railing due to her body and mind not working on the same wavelength yet.

As she makes it to the bottom she can fear the faintest crackle from the fire. She walks over to the archway and peers inside.

Her father is sitting on an armchair with his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head in his hand. In his opposite hand, he holds the bottle and he turns it in his hand. What is he thinking about?

She wishes he'd let her into his space but he doesn't let people inside because that'd lead to weakness. So she can't ask if he's having trouble sleeping because he'd take offense. Her heart aches in her chest at seeing him and she yearns to find out what's bothering him.

She takes a step back and the floor creaks. Her father doesn't jump but he looks over calmly. His eyes flicker with some sort of recognition and his gaze softens.

"Seven." He said and she nods before taking a few steps inside while Reginald turns his attention back to the fire. "Would you join me?" She takes a seat at her father's feet and holds her knees as she stares into the fire. She could understand it's appeal underneath the danger it has a strange way of making you think.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks although she should be asking him. She isn't really thinking of anything aside from the dryness in her throat and the bed calling her name.

"Why do you have those." She whispers while running her feet against the cold wooden floor.

her father sighs while letting a hand play with her hair. She leans back against the chair and rebels in the feeling. She wonders if it ever gets old the nice warm feeling that bubbles in her chest.

"It's become clear that Four is still unable to fight the temptation they provide." She nods against his hand "It'd be better if they were kept in a safe place...Vanya."

It makes her heart jump the way her name tumbles off his tongue. She sits up properly and tilts her head at him. His nose is scrunched up like he just ate something bad which is probably how it felt to utter that word. "As I thought it doesn't sound right." He said although more to himself than her.

She stares and he offers no explanation to ease her heart. He just trails his hand down her face and tilts her head up. "That's a shame I suppose." He grumbles before taking in a breath.

"Stand up." It's an order and she does so without question. This is the part where Reginald lectures her for getting out of bed and then proceeding to join him as if she isn't breaking a rule. She ruffles her hand in her shirt as she waits to be yelled at.

Instead, her father stands too and he gestures for her to follow him. "But the fire-" she starts but he doesn't share her same fears.

"Grace will handle it." He said while running a hand through his hair.

"You should be sleeping."

————————————————————

Walking to breakfast has this weird tense air that she can't explain, never really could. 

Five has papers in his hand with scribbles of equations that he swears will help him time travel. Allison has her hair done up in a ponytail and Luther occasionally tugs on it earning him a glare. Then there's Klaus and Ben who joke and smile as if yesterday was just a figment of her imagination. No, it's more like they don't treat it as a big of a deal as she does.

"You hug the toilet more often than you hug me." Ben bumps his book into Klaus and receives an eye roll.

"Sounds like a you problem," Klaus said bumping Ben with his shoulder.

Vanya stayed behind them and only observed since she couldn't find the courage to say anything. Is Klaus alright? Is he going to be alright? Is...

She looks away and takes a seat at the breakfast table. She looks up momentarily only to see Five drop his handful of papers in front of Reginald and then walk to his seat as if he hadn't. Reginald stares at the papers-maybe in disbelief but only glares at them.

He doesn't yell or make a scene because talking isn't permitted at the table. He flips through the pages while Grace hands out breakfast. The small whiff of pancakes she got was enough to make her mouth water.

————————————————————

"Narrow your vision," Reginald said while he not so gingerly presses the papers into Five's chest. "Are you trying to time travel or jump universes?" His voice is laced with that venom he likes to infuse it in.

She stood back and tried to act like she didn't care. She tried not to seem nosy but they had to know that she wasn't really interested in picking a book out of the living room to read. No, she was just scanning the shelves again and again while she listened to her family argue.

"I know what I'm doing." Five said grasping the papers and ripping them out of Reginald's grasp, in turn, ripping a few of the pages. "Time travel is linear and as such universe hopping isn't remotely possible." Five growls or at least that's how it sounded to her. A vicious growl that she's heard a dog make and it makes fingertips shake.

She doesn't like fighting. She can't stand seeing her siblings fight but it's a whole new breed of terror that wells up in her stomach when someone fights with their father. They aren't supposed to do that.

"I am not running a charity." Reginald scoffs "Don't waste my time with garbage like this and expect approval." Then he leans in just a hair and says something just above a whisper to Five.

Vanya watches as Five's frown lessens and his mouth twitches upward. A small smirk flows across his lips and she widens her eyes. 

He's enjoying this, whatever this is. What is Five enjoying? The rebellious nature of his actions? Or is it the simple act that he's getting underneath their father's skin? She doesn't know which reason is worse.

Five nods his head at whatever Reginald said before taking that as his cue to leave. He walks out with a grin on his face and his eyes shining with something new. He's found something different to work towards at least that's what she's come up with.

She mustn't get involved in whatever that is.

Reginald sighs and brings a hand up to stroke his goatee before flickering his eyesight on her. She freezes with a hand on the border of a book and her eyes focused on him. It's more than clear that she had been watching.

He had to have known the entire time, had to have felt her eyes on him, and the fear radiating from her gaze. It's only natural that she would be afraid for her brother whose pride has always been his weakness.

"Seven just what is it do you think you're doing?" Reginald demands an answer from her in a tone that he rarely used in the house. No, that he rarely ever used with her.

"I'm...I'm" she pulls the book out of the bookshelf with shaky palms "finding a book to read." She flashes the book at him and hopes he can't hear her heart beating out of her chest. Hearing that tone directed at her is what her nightmares are made of.

"Why?" The tone is flat but it drives a sense of urgency into her.

"Well...Be-" she blushes while all her thoughts tell her she's better off hitting her head against the book. She's an idiot. "Six said he liked this book."

Reginald mumbles.

He does that thing he tells his children not to do. Right underneath his breath while giving her a glare. It is not her fault he's angry but that matters little.

"My office, now!"

She presses the book back into the bookshelf where it belongs. Her eyes focus on the floor when she walks because she can't stand to see the angry look directed towards her. 

This isn't her fault.

————————————————————

The armchair is comfy and the fire is dangerous. These things always stay the same each time she's seen this room. The only difference today is the fact that there's a paper sitting on the desk in front of her that looks eerily similar to the one her siblings had to do.

A little picture of her is in the corner and there's a list of questions for her to do. The only question that really matters to her is that one- the one which was blacked out on her sibling's papers. It's simple, so very simple, and yet she can say with certainty her father has never asked such a question.

'What does she want to be when she grows up.'

It makes perfect sense now. Her siblings were never given a choice, for them, it's The Umbrella Academy or nothing. For her, though she's never had that choice. Her future has always been wide open.

She's picked up the violin but she didn't have to. It was and still is her choice. She can't help but feel her heart ache to know her siblings will never have that choice.

"Does this make you happy? To take part in something...more?" Reginald said in this mystical tone as if truly believed this is what she wanted. It isn't, not at all. 

She doesn't want to be treated like she's extraordinary, amazing, and magical when she's not. Sure she's dreamed all her life of being like her siblings but it wasn't the idea of their fame that she wanted. It was part of it but no doubt it was the part she cared less for. In truth all she ever wanted was to be more, not pretend to be more, and definitely not magically be more because her father waved his magic wand.

Reginald waits for a response, leaning back in his chair with his hands crossed one over the other. Somehow it looks like he's in some sort of business meeting or he's discussing a personal matter. This is definitely personal to her.

"No..." she said her clenching her skirt, her heart constricting in its cage while looking at the picture on the page. It's not like her sibling's pictures were. While they were dressed up, proper, and prim, she wasn't smiling, her face tilted away from the camera. She isn't even sure when it was taken but her hair was a complete disaster. She can't help but cringe inside at it.

Her picture is ordinary compared to her numerous sibling's pictures. The feeling of knowing that just added to the aching of her overgrown heart.

"Really?" Reginald said leaning in closer and letting his elbows touch the desk, his vision finding focus on her face making her feel small and insignificant in front of him. "Why? Haven't you always wanted to be?"

Her chest is constricting again but in the way that she knows what's coming next: tears. It's strange to do considering she should be happy, ecstatic even. She can't figure out why this hurts so much, the idea of being offered this paper, this little opportunity. Her eyes burn when they water and she blinks in an attempt to stop her tears but it doesn't work. 

It never works.

Reginald frowns at her and even looks a bit offended. He's offered her this...reward? Or maybe just an opportunity to do something and she's rejecting it. She can't help it, just can't accept this gift, because she doesn't belong beside her siblings.

She brings a hand up to wipe away the tears cascading down her cheek.

"Sorry..." she wipes her right cheek.

"I'm so sorry..." she wipes her left cheek.

Reginald narrows his eyes, anger boiling underneath his gaze from her ear piercing sobs. He slams his hands on the table in one quick motion forcing her body to tremble against her own wishes as he crumples up the paper before her very eyes.

"Stop crying." It's a simple command, but if the words were physical they would be harsh, and brittle against her skin. "There is no reason for your waterworks."

"Sorry." She mumbles again through the salty taste of her own tears on her lips. "I just-" Reginald stands up, his chair sliding out behind him making a screeching sound. Her voice stops working, it hides in her throat afraid to show itself fully only allowing small sobs to reach her lips.

Her father is silent, his hands clenching air, and his eyes narrowed at her. She closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side, red hot heat spreads across her cheeks. She's an emotional wreck, a terribly ugly wreck that no father should have to deal with.

She doesn't look back but she hears his steps, painfully loud steps towards her. She needs to apologize now before he gets angrier, again while she has the chance. She turns her eyesight on him even though she knows that she doesn't have the right while she's making a scene like this.

"I'm-" a hand tilts her head up-like always but this time her father leans in, and she stills unable to understand his attentions until it happens. His lips push against hers and she can feel her eyes widen. His Goatee scratches her making her blood run cold in her veins.

Why? She can't help but ask him this question in her mind. She's unnerved, frozen but not in fear, at least she doesn't think so. He pulls away and she's silent not even a sob leaves her lips.

Something glints in his eyes as he waits for her reaction. What does he want from her? She doesn't know, but she does know that she feels fuzzy. It's weird because she definitely didn't like the kiss, no, she's sure that isn't how most father's and daughters act. In fact, he's never given kisses, ever, but she's always dreamed of getting forehead kisses or cheek kisses from him like mother gives her.

This isn't what she wanted, never wanted his lips on hers. She somehow feels dirty from the simple thought.

"I..." she started but she doesn't have a response all she can do is rub a finger over her lips. Her father smiles softly, in a way that almost makes her feel like she's in danger because he was angry. So very angry with her but now he's acting like he wasn't. 

It's scary...

"What was that?" She asks although she knows it's a stupid question she can't help but think that she's overthinking it, the gesture could be a meaningless attempt at fatherly affection.

"A kiss."

Is it normal for parents to kiss their children on the lips? She can't say for sure whether it is or isn't. In fact, she's only really read about parents, or boyfriends and girlfriends doing such things. Lovers did that, right?

"Oh." She said dumbly dropping her hand from her lips and staring at the crumpled paper in the trash.

"It was an efficient method to stop your crying." He’s right... her breathing is normal, her eyes aren't watery anymore, and she just feels confused more than anything. "In any case," Reginald mused changing the conversation. "Forget about it, if you aren't interested in jeopardy I won’t force you,” Reginald informs her while turning his attention to the fire that burned brightly in his office. He throws a stray piece of firewood inside and she watches as it crackles.

She sniffles and taps her eyes gently to try and ease their puffiness. She's tired, ready for a nap after she royalty embarrassed herself. She leans back in the chair and stares up at the ceiling while running her hands across her kneecaps. The room is warm, warmer than usual with the burning fire being fed.

She wishes every room was this warm. If they were she'd be able to sleep easier. So much easier.

————————————————————

Grace pushes her hair out of her face and looks at her eyes. Her eyes that are still puffy, and don't want to stay open. "Aw sweetie," her mom says rubbing a hand on her cheek, the opposite hand at her own side with a small pair of pliers "Don't let your father get to you. He's a good man but he's terrible at words." 

She nods and lets a small smile cross her lips because she doesn't want her mother to worry about her. She's fine, and she knows her mother is right. Her mother gives her one of her smiles before crouching down and balancing on her heels.

"Did he tell you about them?" Her mother asked while clipping some of the unruly branches of the rose bush, forming it into more of a perfect circle. 

"Father? No, he hasn't." She whispered, crouching down beside her mother and moving to hold one of the limbs for her mother to cut. She held on loosely and made sure to avoid the thorns.

"His late wife loved roses." Her mother said, cutting the limb, and letting it drop into a plastic bag. "He's never talked about her in great detail, even to me, but she sounds like a wonderful woman." She drawled on pressing a hand against the ground and standing. 

"Thank you for your help, darling." Her mother pressed a kiss against her forehead. The place where she's supposed to be kissed, and it just makes her doubt herself even more.

————————————————————

Klaus has been stolen away for training despite it not being his day. It's probably due to his own actions but it's still upsetting because he's one of her few siblings that hate it. He hates the training, hates his power, and hates when their father helps him master it.

She doesn't know much about it, or really what he does for his training since he's rarely done his at home. So maybe it is terrible, maybe it really is something to fear, or maybe he's being dramatic. Either way it doesn't concern her, never should, because her father has told her time, and time again that she shouldn't listen to her heart.

She doesn't feel like doing much, her head too full of things she hasn't been able to comprehend yet. She wishes she could, wishes her father had let them have a more formal education so that she could have some grasp on her feelings.

She walks towards her sister's room, and peers through the barely cracked open door. Allison sits on her bed, various makeup spread along the sheets, and Luther sits across from her being a nice doll for her to practice on. Nothing extreme like Klaus would allow because Luther refused but he did allow Allison to do Color swatches on his arm. She wishes she could be Klaus or Luther, she would gladly let Allison do her makeup to her heart's content.

Sadly though, she hasn't been offered the opportunity. She sighs and turns away, ignoring the aching of her heart.

————————————————————

Her father holds his hand out, two little pills glisten in his palm beckoning her to take them. She stares, wonders what they are, but knows he'd never say. Even if he did she wouldn't understand.

"Do I have to take them?" She questions, tilting her head upwards and meeting his eyes looking for any sign of anger. "They give me weird dreams." She said as if trying to justify her actions although she didn't need to.

"If you feel better without them then don't take them." He said almost with this tone of malice but she knew it had less to do with her and more to do with everything else. Five's disobedience, Klaus's actions, she's just the icing on the cake. 

"Sorry."

Her father turns and walks away, right out from her room and into the hallway. Everyone stayed clear of him because it just seemed like one of those days. She shut her door uninterested in feeling her siblings' gazes on her as if they blamed her for his anger.

It isn't her fault, she refuses to believe that.

She sits on her bed, pulls her knees up to her chest and stares at the shapes in her room. Those terrible creatures that live in the moonlight, those creatures she knows aren't real but are only figments of her childish imagination.

The light from the hallway disappears allowing the make-believe creatures to truly take form and a silence creeps into her ears.

She regrets not taking the pills, because they do help but she just wasn't feeling it. She needed the time, still needs the time to try and justify why her father stole her first kiss.

————————————————————

Again she hears it, her disobedient siblings making an escape for the great outdoors. Again they are leaving, running away without any worry for the punishment they'll receive. She wants to join them, wants to be a part of this movement. Not because she really wants to go outside without their father's watchful eye but because she wants to be like them.

She tiptoes to her door and opens it, just enough for her to see Klaus with a handful of cash. The cash he'd never tell her where he found but she's always figured he stole from their father. It'd make sense, a little bit, but that only means it's a matter of time before he figures it out.

She opens her door more, it creaks, and Klaus looks at her. Her brother stares into her soul, not literally but it sure feels like he is. Then he looks away and ignores her in favor of pushing all his siblings into five's room.

She takes a step, wanting to join them, wishing she knew why Allison was prettied up. Where are they going? Why can't she go too? Why isn't she ever included? Do they even care that this hurts her? To be left behind breaks her heart into a million pieces and all she wants to do is cry.

She won't, not when they're still here. 

So she waits, standing in the middle of the hallway while her siblings leave, sometimes glancing at her, and none of them offering her a chance to go except Five. Five who is the last one out the window, her brother who gives her an apologetic smile and offers to take her next time.

She knows he's not serious.

Her head pounds, her eyes don't water but she feels like she's already cried a river. She hates it. Hates everything so much and yet knows that tomorrow she'll be back to feeling sorry for them.

A hand is placed on her shoulder and she jumps in her own skin. She turns to her father, his gaze warm, but his skin is so icy cold that she can feel it through her pajamas.

"You should lie down." He said but whether that was because she's supposed to be in bed or because she looked ill was beyond her. She couldn't think, couldn't even get her feet to work. "Don't worry about them."

"But-I"

Her father places his hand on her cheek, in that way he likes to, in that way she likes. Then he leans in and she feels the dread filling her stomach. He's going to do it again-kiss her. He can't do that, he shouldn't do that, but he does.

His cold lips touch hers in that light way, that it almost feels like air is blowing on her, his beard scratches her skin irritating it. She clenches her eyes shut, can't bear to face that her father is kissing her. She can't begin to understand if she's just being self-conscious or if she's right to feel weird like this.

What is he thinking? She opens her eyes only to see his focused on hers in a calculating way. Is she supposed to do something? Does he want something from her? She doesn't know but feels the way his lips push more solidly into her own and she's forced to bring a hand up, pushing on his chest. It's a light pushing without any real force but it helps ease her mind.

"You should be in bed." He said when their lips part ways and she breathes through her mouth because for a moment she had forgotten that breathing was important. She nods, wanting to distance herself from her father, and it works at first.

She walks into her room, and sits on her bed, determined to shut the door the moment her father left. But he didn't, no, in fact, he just looked at her for a long while, contemplating something inside himself before ultimately walking inside her room making sure to shut the door behind him.

The hairs on her neck stand up, and she knows why. It's almost like he's trapping her in here as if he's afraid she might run away. Why? Why would that even be a possibility? She doesn't want to know.

Her father walks to her bed and sits down, his weight causing the bed to dip. His mouth is set in a straight line as he looks her over, in a way that makes her blush because she can't stand it. Absolutely hates being looked at like this.

"What's that look for?" He said almost laughing giving her chills.

"Huh?" She said pressing a hand against her cheek. Had she been making a strange face? She curls her legs up on to the bed and sits against the wall. "Sorry," she sputters through her numbed lips "I'm just tired."

His hand wanders to her ankle and tickles her skin. She doesn't mention it, doesn't look, and tries to act like everything is okay. He scoots closer but still gives off that uncaring air as if what he's doing isn't important to him. It only makes her feel like she's overthinking everything.

She knows she isn't.

Her father never gave them affection, never gave hugs or kisses. Half the time he forgot to treat them like family but she still loved him because he's the only father she's ever had.

The hand travels up underneath her loosely fitted pajama pants and her skin crawls.

"That tickles."

He doesn't acknowledge her words, dragging his fingertips down her skin leaving her legs covered in goosebumps. He leans closer towards her, making it so she feels claustrophobic from his mere presence. He doesn't seem to notice her discomfort or at least it hasn't stopped him.

He presses his lips to her neck, her pale, untouched neck. He kisses a spot before sucking at it or at least that's what it feels like. It hurts, a little, but mainly feels dirty like she needs to soak in a bath because this is wrong. She's certain that this isn't normal, that this is one of those things that lovers did. 

He shouldn't be doing this to her and yet he is. She feels sick like she might throw up if her stomach churns anymore. She wants to, wants to throw up everywhere so that he'll stop. What if that wasn't enough?

She leans her head up, allowing him more space, but all she really wants to do is push him away. Her eyes are on the edge of overflowing, and her lips are trembling so much she can't speak. She's scared, has never truly felt scared of him but she is now.

He had shut the door, not that anyone would hear her scream anyway. No one is here, she has no one to ask for help. 

She's alone.

"Father..." she mumbles as if attempting to remind him that he shouldn't be doing this. It's a feeble attempt because all it really does is make it so much clearer that she's so much weaker than him. He leans back, wiping his mouth off, before rubbing his fingertips over her throat.

"Your pale, warm, and so very innocent." He said with sincerity she wishes he didn't have. The words sink into her brain, telling her things she didn't want to listen to, suggesting to her subconscious that maybe just maybe this was her fault.

She looks down, at her knees and flinches when he brings a hand to fumble with her shirt. She freezes when a cold hand touches her back, and travels upwards. "Why..." she mumbles but is quickly shut up by another kiss, a rougher kiss, one that she's sure is going to bruise her lips.

The hand stops at her bra strap and it unclips it with ease. She panics, clenching a hand into his shoulder, and tears start falling down her face. "No...no you can't." She pleaded while the reality of the situation becomes real. He's about to do something bad to her isn't he? He can't, she couldn't handle it.

She can't handle this.

She feels hopeless, like nothing she could do would change what’s happening. It feels so oddly similar to her dream that it gives it a feeling she hates...the dipping feeling of déjà vu settling in her stomach. It hurts, feels nasty, and all she can do is sob.

He shushes her, his hand pushing her shirt up. "Please don't!" She pleads with him but he doesn't seem to be listening. He pulls on the shirt and manages to get it over her head along with her bra displaying her chest for his eyes to see.

She wants to cover up. Nobody was ever supposed to see her like this. Her tears roll down her cheek and some drops land on her neck as her father lets her shirt plop on the ground. He stares, let's his eyes caress her body before he lets a hand touch her. Touch her where no father should, grasps at flesh he shouldn't have seen, and his eyes glow with satisfaction.

He's enjoying this.

She's crying, her heart beating so loud that he has to hear it, hear all of the fear pumping in her veins but ignores it completely. “Stop..." she pleads again but he just brings his mouth to her neck and trails his lips down her skin until he's leaving kisses on her breasts.

She feels dirty, so disgusting that she's scared that even if she took six baths that she'd never be able to get clean.

Is this...all her fault? She wants to ask, wants to know if it's because she was trying too hard to get closer. She didn't want this, she doesn't want this, she will never want this. Why is he doing this to her?

His tongue touches her right nipple and immediately her leg clenches up, an automatic response. If she hates it so much, if it makes her feel so dirty, then why does her body feel like this. Why is it giving her this...strange feeling, one that almost feels painful but keeps on climbing inside of her.

She presses a hand against his shoulder, catching her breath before she asks a question that her thoughts won't stop asking.

"Do you...do this with Three?" The words came out almost whimpered and her father tenses against her. His lips on her skin, his hand on her breast, all his motions stilled. He stops everything and leans back, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his hand comes to his mouth in what looked like disgust.

"Absolutely not! Why would you think that? What's wrong with you?" It is said in such a tone that makes her face flush red. Of course that was a crazy thought...Alison is perfect. She's so perfect that she'd never get a...punishment like this right? Is that what this is?

A punishment for being so ordinary? 

She doesn't say anything, has no reply, just stares at him wishing he'd tell her why he's doing this. What does he get out of it? Does he hate her? Has he always hated her? The thought hurts more than this disgusts her because she's always looked up to him. Always wanted to be his perfect daughter but...maybe that's made him loath her.

He's furious, the air just exudes out of him, but he doesn't continue, or attempt to go back to what he was doing. She's spoiled his mood.

He leans over grabbing her shirt off the floor before throwing it at her. He stands and walks to the door without looking back.

"Don't ever suggest such a disgusting thought again." He said walking out of her room making sure to slam the door.

She's alone.

She wants to run to someone, and tell them that there's something wrong. She can’t, there’s no one home. Couldn’t even if they were home because they would blame her, tell her it's all her fault because she didn't scream. Isn't that what they tell you to do? Scream and fight? She didn't do either...that must mean that it was her fault right?

She buries her face in her shirt, letting it soak up all her tears. Her skin burns where he touched, her neck itches, and her sobs are loud but she doesn't care because nobody else does. 

There's nobody home to care about her crying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half of this is Vanya being in complete denial and the second half is heavy non/con.

She didn't sleep at all, couldn't even get her mind to stop working for a minute. She jumped every time she hears a tap against her window or a floorboard creaking as if she was afraid her father would come back and realize he wanted more.

She is scared of him, scared of what he could do, and so scared of the power he has. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do. What is someone so ordinary like her supposed to do?

Another creak sounds outside her door and she holds her breath. She holds it until she hears whispered mumbles and then she throws her shirt over her head and runs. She wants to run into one of her sibling's arms, she wants to tell them that something happened.

So she opens her door and stumbles right into Klaus. He hiccups and gives her a half-lidded stare before dissolving into laughs. 

"Somebody hit him." Diego groans rubbing a hand across his face before walking into his own room.

Klaus throws a hand around her shoulders, leans on her in such a way that just makes her feel sick. She knows she doesn't have to fear him, that she's still shaken from her father but she can't help her trembles. 

"Why are you still up?" He almost sang to her, bringing up his opposite hand to sip on a can of beer. A can of beer that will definitely get him in trouble if father saw it. "Did you miss me?" He sang right against her neck and she freezes.

Hates how her throat constricts...hates how she almost gags at the sensation. "You smell like dad." He mumbles against her skin, and she has to throw a hand over her mouth to stop herself from throwing up. He's right, she stinks just like him as if she just bathed in his scent and not even her brother's stench of alcohol could hide it.

"Hey, Hey!" Klaus said leaning off of her and shaking her shoulders. "It's okay! Nobody is judging you for being a suck-up." He laughs, laughs right at her before a small thud echoes behind him and he goes completely still.

He frowns, turns almost on the drop of a dime, and grasps Ben's shirt. "Do you want to fight?" He said in what she imagines is his tough-guy voice.

"Go to bed Klaus," Ben said pushing on Klaus who after only a moment of protest let him. "Sorry," Ben offers her as if that was supposed to make her feel better. 

It doesn't, just makes her realize nobody here really wants to listen to her problems.

She wills herself to stop gagging and it works for the most part aside from the fact that her mouth tastes like death now. Disgusting, but not as disgusting as her father's lips on hers.

She gives up on talking to her siblings, knowing that right now is a terrible time to talk to them about anything. Or maybe it always will be, maybe she isn't supposed to talk to them. They don't dump all their problems on her right? 

Would she just be a bother to them?

She walks into her room and shuts the door before she goes back to sitting on her bed. She won't sleep, there's no way.

————————————————————

She's right, she's decided that she shouldn't bother them. She doesn't want them to hate her any more than they already do.

It's her fault anyway.

She has to accept that. There isn't any other way for her to move on. It was a punishment, his actions were all due to her own. It won't happen again, never again.

She's embarrassed, wonders if it's because she let it happen, or because she had never ever been given a punishment as horrible as that was. She gets it now, understands how her siblings could grow to hate them so much.

Her siblings begin to wake up, loud and laughing just as the sun is coming out. She opens her door and watches them poor out of their rooms, smiles on their faces, satisfied with how their night had gone. Allison's nice hair is a mess, her eyes drowsy, and her mood rotten. 

She wonders if this is what being hungover is like.

Luther still revolves around her like she's the sun. She's perfect, so very perfect even when she looks like a mess.

"Don't stare," Klaus said walking by using his right hand to rub gold makeup off his face that she wasn't able to see last night.

"Wait!" She said, almost sounded like she's panicking. Maybe she was, she just had to know why he didn't like those pills. She has to know. "Those pills-"

"The ones that are clearly meant for sleeping?" He said rubbing away his eyeshadow. "I didn't take them this time don't look at me."

"No!" She shakes her head throwing a hand on his shoulder "why didn't you like them?"

He looks at her, tilts his head, before chuckling. "What do you mean? Why do you think I take drugs? I want to get high, not numb." He said rolling his eyes and walking into his room.

It makes sense and yet she wishes there was more. All he really said was that she's really paranoid.

Allison walks by with pink sparkles on her face and she stops mid-conversation with Luther to stare at her. She looks her over-all she can do is blush and wave. It's embarrassing, and somehow it just feels like her sister knows everything even though she doesn't.

Her sister doesn't keep walking straight instead changing her direction towards Vanya. She tenses up, tries to smile even more, but ultimately she probably looks like she's hiding something.

"Where did you get that from?" Her sister said as she pulled down her shirt's collar. "How did you..." her face scrunched in confusion.

She stops smiling, tilts her head, and feigns innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about." She looks to the side although the blush that traveled up her face told a different story. "It's just a bug bite."

"Sure it is," Luther said beside Allison and all she could feel was her world crashing down around her. "That's a nice hickie." He brought a finger to her throat to prod at it and she took a step back distancing herself.

They just laughed like her discomfort was the best thing in the world. She hates it, hates it so much because she knows that even if she told them what happened they wouldn't believe her...or even worse they might laugh at her like this.

She doesn't want that, couldn't stomach it, it'd break her illusion of a perfect family...if her father hasn't already shattered it into a million pieces.

————————————————————

She's in the bath, her eyes closed and her head tilted back against the porcelain tub. She doesn't do anything, not even scrub with soap despite how much she wants to because every time she touches where he touched she gets all tingly and she hates it. it just keeps reminding her of what she's trying to wash away.

She listens to nothing, there is never any real noise unless her father went out. She hates the silence, hates that it allows her to hear her own thoughts. She just wants to laugh, knowing she's only causing herself more pain when her brain keeps replaying what happened.

Her father so close to her, touching her skin with his palms, soaking up all of her tears, and looking at her like she was so pretty. But she isn't though he acted like she was.

She dips her hands in water and rubs her face making sure to scrub her lips. She stands, lets the water drip down her back, and steps out of the tub. She looks at herself in the mirror, she looks at her tired eyes, and her neck has a terrible red bruise on it.

It makes her feel nasty.

————————————————————

Their father is angry, furious, just looking at him burns her. He looks over his children who still have glitter on their skin, reflecting light, and especially ticking him off.

He hates glitter, never allowed the clingy substance to ever come in the house.

"You are all acting like children." Their father said to them, uninterested in hearing their plead since this is a one-sided argument. They ran away and that's that, there is no justifying it.

"You have responsibilities, you can't just leave whenever you want," Reginald said tapping his cane off the floor. "You mustn't forget how you affect the people around you." 

She stood with her back straight staring into her sibling's eyes. She hates being an example, hates being the figure her siblings are supposed to be because all she really wants to do is be like them. She smiles anyway, keeping a distance from her father, and ignoring all of her spider senses telling her that something is wrong.

That she's standing too close to her own father. To that man who had touched her in places she hasn't even been able to fully comprehend yet she knows deep down it's wrong.

That no matter the reason that should have never happened to her.

————————————————————

She sits on the ground in front of one of the Rose bushes. She wraps a hand around her chest, wishing the cold air would just stop blowing.

Her siblings are running in circles, doing meaningless laps in the yard. Which at first seems like a simple form of mental torture but after so many laps it's hard to watch.

Diego is taking in deep breaths, his forehead dripping with sweat, but he still tries to keep up with Luther. They seem to have some sort of rivalry going on at the moment. 

It's so much easier to look at them then her other siblings. Klaus looks like he just wants to die, Ben has discarded his jacket and his face is red, Allison's makeup is running in ways that she'd kill anyone who pointed it out, and then there's five who walks.

Walks like some kind of manic because only a manic would. He acts like he's some indestructible rebel. He isn't, and it's so scary to watch how much his actions make their father's blood boils.

She waits for him to blow up, to tell Five off, but he doesn't. He just stands next to her, not acknowledging her, and occasionally rings a bell in his hands.

Her stomach churns from being so close to him but...she probably doesn't have the right. It was a punishment. That means she did the right thing, they aren't ever supposed to fight a punishment that's handed to them.

Is he proud of her? Did she handle it as she should have? Or is he disappointed at her for all of her crying?

She hopes he isn't mad at her.

————————————————————

She can't eat breakfast, doesn't think she could stomach it. She wishes she could because her father's gaze is making her skin burn with its intensity. She just plays with her eggs, pushing the yoke around with her fork. Watching as the yellow goes to and forth but doesn't break, it stays intact through her torture.

Her siblings don't eat either, aren't able to stomach it due to their stomachs still rolling. They nurse their waters, occasionally looking at each other in that way that almost looks like they know what the other is thinking. It's weird, she wonders if they are telepathic but know it's just a circumstance of being so similar.

Five stares at her.

She ignores it, uninterested in trying to determine why he's looking at her like that. In that way that almost feels like he's pitying her.

————————————————————

Five touches her neck and she hisses. It stings, but it makes her more uncomfortable than anything. Being forced to remember how she got that mark, how her father sucked at her neck...

He looks at it, gazes at it, and she wonders what he thinks. Does it look like a kissing mark? Does it just look like a bruise? Is it just a bug bite? Her brother steps away seemly coming to a conclusion.

"I believe you." He said grabbing her hand and pulling her along. So he's come to the conclusion that it's a big bite? Why? Because nobody would ever want to kiss her? "That doesn't mean the others will. If we cover it up you won't get teased so much." He pulls her into Allison's room and she's overwhelmed by the lavender scent.

She doesn't know why Allison insists on drenching herself with that stuff.

Five leans down and pulls out a box from underneath Allison's bed, opening it to reveal an assortment of makeup. She can't name most of them apart from the lipsticks. She's never really understood the appeal.

"Let's try this." Five said spraying a little glop of skin-colored makeup on his fingertips before rubbing it into her neck. "It's foundation." He said almost as an afterthought before sitting back and staring at her.

He cringes and throws it to the side before picking another one out of the box. "Are hickies a bad thing?" She asked, more curious than anything because she doesn't really understand them. 

"Not necessarily...but just imagining you with one makes me sick." He said rubbing another foundation cream against her skin. "It's a possessive thing lovers do and you are way too kind to be treated like that."

Was her father being possessive? She doesn't want to think that, she really doesn't want to think that. It was a punishment, nothing more, and nothing less. He only left her with this mark so that she'd remember...right?

"That looks better, not perfect, but good enough." He hands her the foundation container and pushes the box back underneath the bed. "Don't worry about Allison she won't miss it ."

"And if she does?" She asks uninterested in getting a lecture from her sister.

"Blame Klaus."

————————————————————

Klaus flashes a picture at her, one in a magazine she's sure father didn't get them. She blushes and looks away but the vision is still in her head. A blonde girl without any clothes on eating ice cream like she didn't know that bowls were a thing.

"Don't show her that!" Ben said and she didn't have to look to know he is tearing the magazine out of Klaus's hands. She turns back to look at ben, his face red, and he holds the magazine against himself. "She doesn't need to see this."

Is it weird that she wants to though? She's never had a dirty book, has only really seen dirty things through Klaus, and now she's curious. She doesn't say as much though because she probably couldn't do it.

Couldn't look at such things and not imagine things she doesn't want to.

"Sorry!" She mumbles and shuts Klaus's bedroom door. It was probably a stupid idea to try and talk to him anyway. 

He has his own problems, she shouldn't be a bother to him or anyone for that matter.

————————————————————

She feels fine.

She's fine until her she's anywhere near her father. She gets all jittery, afraid of his every movement, afraid that he's just going to decide to kiss her or touch her somewhere. She's afraid in ways she shouldn't be.

She watches him read, working out his stress instead of taking out someone for training. He lets his eyes wander the pages, and she stares.

She doesn't move closer but some part of her wants to walk right up to him and act like everything is okay. She wants to rewrite yesterday, she just wants to be closer to him as a family, and yet he doesn't want that.

He might hate her ordinariness.

He flips a page in his book before looking at her. She flinches, takes a step back although he isn't even near her.

"Seven?" He looks at her with such a sincere look that it hurts. It hurts so much because all she wants to do is soak up his kindness. All she wants to do is be the daughter he wants her to be.

She tries to smile, tries to act like she isn't afraid as she walks inside. She wonders if he can see her trembling steps, wonders if he knows how much trust she's giving him. She's giving him the benefit of every doubt because her heart tells her she should.

She sits beside him and acts like she's fine. She acts like this isn't making her want to throw up.

"Did you cover it up?" Her father trails a finger on her throat and it burns despite his cold touch.

"Well-Um Five-"

"Number Five Huh?" Her father said in this weird tone as if he was suggesting something. She doesn't understand and just tilts her head in response.

"I'm sorry... was I not supposed to do that?" Was she supposed to let everyone see it? That one little mark that was the only visible proof of what had occurred...she'd have thought that he'd want her to hide it. She thought it wasn't something she should be proud of.

He sighs and his fingers tense on her neck and she squeaks. It's an embarrassing sound that leaves her lips but he smiles seemly happy at her response.

"I..."

"Are you scared?" He said loosening his grip and removing his hand from her neck. "There's no need for you to worry." He says it like it's just so easy, all it really does is make her fear feel so much more real. He's really saying this to her, really telling her this. 

It's unbelievable.

She has to change the subject, can't stomach thinking about it for another moment. "Are you mad at them for running away?" She asked looking away from him.

He chuckles, actually chuckles, and she looks back confused. "Running away? Is that what you think they're doing?" He rolls his eyes "they are going out for a taste of life, not running away. If they wanted to do that I'd happily wish them well."

She frowns, can't stand it when he says such cruel things but she knows that's just how it is. He's the type of man to boot out his own children just to watch them grovel in the real world and ultimately grin when they are forced to crawl back to him.

What would his siblings do if they ever ran away? Sell rocks on the street corner? Her father would probably get a kick out of that and she'd be there beside him begging for them to come home.

The thought leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

"We've got things to do." He said and she looks up, unnerved that she was so far into her own head that she hadn't noticed him getting up. He holds his hand out and she hesitates before she takes it.

"Oh..." she uses it to stand and then lets go. she follows behind him acting like everything is just okay. That is how this works right? She repeats it enough times then it becomes reality?

She's okay...maybe better than okay.

She is perfectly fine.

————————————————————

She is not fine.

In fact, she's currently the definition of not fine. She's innocent just like he said and way too naive. What was she thinking? That if she went with him, all alone, that everything would be all peachy?

He leads her to his room and tells her to relax. In his over the top, cryptic way, that makes her want to disappear. She sits on his bed and hates that she's always dreamed of being in his room like this.

Sometimes when she had nightmares she dreamed of him hushing her and letting her sleep in his bed. Of course, he never did, would never allow such behavior, but she always wished he was more fatherly towards her.

That's why this hurts. She's always wanted to be in here, be allowed into his space, but never like this. She's so scared of his every move that she can't even enjoy that she's gotten the chance to be this close to him.

She hates it.

Wishes her hands didn't shake, wishes her eyes would stop looking everywhere that's not her father, and she wishes that her breathing would calm down. She takes a deep breath and focuses her eyes on the tv in his room, not turned on but there nonetheless. 

She's sure that's the only television in the house.

He sits down beside her and she immediately goes to stand. She can't do this, can't sit here acting like everything is okay. Her father catches her hand and pulls, not harshly, but enough to fill her thoughts with horrible things.

"Sit." He said, emotionless as if this was normal. How is he this normal? Has he just magically forgotten what he did? Or does it not matter to him?

She sits beside him, wishing she wasn't here, but knowing even if she hadn't come with her own free will he could have easily forced her. It would have been so easy for him to do.

He lets his hand wander from her hand up her arm. It trails down and then he lets it rest on her belly, a slight pushing behind it, telling her to lay down without words. She does, afraid, unsure whether he's doing this because she deserves it, or because he wants to. He goes to hover over her making her feel so small beneath him.

He's shattering her trust, and that hurts so much more than this feels.

His hand wanders underneath her shirt, in a familiar motion. It's sickening, so unbelievably sickening, that she's sure her soul is un-pure now. He tugs at her shirt and she lets him remove it, tears pricking her eyes, but she doesn't want to cry.

With her head tilted like this and her face pressed against his pillow all she can smell is him. His scent and it adds a layer of comfort because he's her father, he's supposed to protect her. He's always protected her even if he wasn't sentimental about it.

She doesn't want that smell to become a reason she has nightmares.

"Do you hate me?" She whispers feeling his lips touch her neck. She doesn't expect him to respond, doesn't expect him to care, but he does lean back to give her a soft smile.

"Of course not." His words ease some part in her mind but leaves her shaking. He doesn't hate her, yet he's doing this to her. Why? Why is he doing this to her? A hand pushes her face up towards him and his lips press against her lips, she tenses praying for it to be over soon. He pulls back letting a hand lay on her thigh and his mouth kissing her collarbone.

"Father..." she mumbles again still somewhere deep inside hoping that the word will make him stop. Make him realize he's doing things he'll regret. 

"Shhh..." he shushes his breath blowing against her skin making it feel like she can't breathe. Like he's crushing her with his presence. She pushes against him, light, unable to fully disobey him. She has never done that, never wants to do that, because she's afraid of the consequences. 

If this is what he does when she's a good girl she doesn't even want to imagine what her punishment will be.

He kisses down her chest to her bra and she makes a noise. A gross, terrible noise, that makes her want to curl up and die. She has never made such a disgusting sound before and she hates it.

He lets that hand that's on her thigh travel underneath her skirt, it rubs circles over the skin, and she presses harder against him. It's scary, the mere thought that's he's so close to the area that she's barely touched. She's scared that he will touch her there, so much more terrified of being touched there than anywhere else.

That's her sensitive area, that's her privates, that's the one place that he's told her to never let anyone touch. He can't do this, can't touch her there.

He is her father, she doesn't want him to do this, but he does. In one clean movement rubs his fingers over her underwear and her legs tense up. She makes a sound, it comes right out of her throat and it makes herself sick.

He can't do this.

She pushes so much harder, and he tenses from her sudden movement. "Shhh...it's okay." He said again, trying to comfort her but that doesn't work, will never work when he's still rubbing her down there. Her legs try to shut but he keeps them apart with ease.

She's weak, so ordinary and naive.

Tears fall down her face, and all she can do is push at him. It isn't enough to deter him. He keeps rubbing a line-up and down her, each movement causing her to jerk. That strange feeling in her stomach raising, seemly climbing from his movements. 

She hates it, hates underneath the pain it feels good. That's scary, scary that he's making this feel good when he should be making her feel sick. She doesn't want to like this, she doesn't want this to feel good, but every time he rubs his fingers she squirms in his grasp.

It feels disgusting.

Acid keeps jumping up her throat, each thought she has makes her stomach threaten to explode. "Please stop." She cries but half the words are mumbled without much of a fire behind them. She can't get her voice to steady.

"Seven." He says, almost like he's threatening her, and it works. She stops pushing, stops sobbing. 

She goes silent.

He kisses her throat again.

She takes in breath, after breath, trying to calm herself. "Don't get yourself worked up." He said and it just shatters all her efforts. She wishes he'd stop being so nice to her, wishes he'd stop comforting her.

This would be so much easier if he made it hurt if he held her down with a bruising grip and told her she's worthless. All his comforting is really doing is making her think she's supposed to want this. That he wants her to like this. She doesn't want that to be true.

She's letting this happen, she's letting him touch her like this, and she's letting him kiss her skin. Her stomach contracts and another round of sobs come at her thoughts. She digs her nails into his shoulder but she doubts he can even feel it through his suit. 

His hand stops its movement and instead, he slides a finger underneath the lace, slowly pulling it down her legs. She digs her nails in harder, they burn in response, and she sobs.

"No! No, no, no..." she bawls again and again to her father. He just kisses her, shutting her up.

"It's alright...Let me take care of you." He whispers between kisses and she isn't sure if she's hearing things right. He's crazy, absolutely crazy, he has to be. This isn't alright, he shouldn't be doing this.

What is he supposed to be taking care of?

His cold fingers touch her heat, touch her pure slits, and she tries to scoot away from him but he doesn't let her. His opposite hand grasping at her hips that forcibly stop her from trying to escape.

His fingers touch a little nub, one she hasn't ever touched, and she moans. He smiles, rubbing it again and again until is she is a withering mess beneath him and then he stops just as she's feeling her climbing sensation peek.

He presses his hips against hers, she feels him, and she can feel that he's...turned on by her. She's horrified, can't think of another word so fitting.

He's going to rape her, isn't he? Hold her down while she screams from the pain of having that thing put inside her. He's going to break her while whispering nice words of comfort. He can't do that, he isn't serious. This is all just one big terrible joke, right? He'd never even think of doing such a thing...it's below him.

All it takes is him to rub against her, to feel him hard against her private's even through his clothes to make her panic. She immediately hits him, has never done anything of the sort before but she isn't thinking straight now. Her mind stopped working the minute she felt him.

She hit him as hard as she could, right in the face, and he stumbles back, sitting up on his knees clenching right over his mouth. Little red droplets of blood drip down from him, but she isn't sure that isn't from her own hand, because it hurt so much to punch him.

She doesn't check if it was her hand or not, doesn't have the time. She runs, immediately goes to get off the bed only managing to fall face-first on the floor because her underwear had only been moved down her legs and not off completely. She struggles, immediately pushes them off before getting up and running out the door.

Never looking back, knowing her father was still there. He's going to be so angry with her but she had to run...had to get away because he wasn't listening to her. He wasn't going to stop.

He was going to rape her and she was so terrified. Is still so terrified. He must have lost all of his marbles, he couldn't really have thought of doing that. 

There's something wrong with him.

She runs, runs until her feet ache, and her mother comes into view. Her hands occupied with a tray containing a drink and various snacks. Was she taking them to father? It didn't matter to her.

She ran into her mother's arm completely throwing the tray to the side. The tray makes a metallic bang, warm liquid spills below her, and her feet are soaked by it. She doesn't care, only holds on to her mother tighter and cries into her chest.

"What happened?" Her mother said, wrapping her arms around her bare body, reminding her that her top half is only covered with a bra causing her to sob uncontrollably in her mother's hold. Her mother hums and lets her cry it out. "It's going to be alright sweetheart...shhh."

Her mother rubs her hands across her back. "I've got you." Her mom whispers against her, the liquid cools around her feet. "Tell what's wrong...where is your shirt?" Her mother asks and all she can do is sob harder into her chest.

Her mother lets her, doesn't push her anymore until she's ready. Until she's cried enough for a whole lifetime. She leans back, looks up at her mother, and takes a deep breath.

"Father...he-" Her mother's eyes darken, her arms fall, and she goes lifeless. 

She steps back, a hand over her mouth, unable to face what just happened. Her mother has stopped working, looks almost like she's dead. She places her hands against her mother's chest that had just been so warm and soft but is now hard and cold.

"Mother please wake up!" She pleads with her, but nothing happens. "Please don't leave me." She pleads again but receives no response.

Her hands shake against her mom, and then she hears it. A small creek behind her and she turns around horrified. Her father stands in the hallway, a scowl on his face while there's a little cut beading with red blood just below his right cheek, and a small metal device is in his hand.

"You are dramatic." He said rubbing his thumb on his scratch, she backs up. "I wasn't going to hurt you." He took a step closer, narrowing his eyes at her.

"What do you think of me? Like some kind of feral dog?" Her father takes another step and she takes one back. He's going to hurt her, make her regret running away. He's going to hit her, forcing her to say sorry, and make her say she'll never do it again.

"Why must you make things difficult?" 

He takes another step, reaching a hand out and grasping her arm. He stares at her, looks deep into her eyes so that she knows he's being sincere.

"I'll lock you away, and tell everyone you're ill." She shakes, her breaths come out in short bursts. "No one will worry about you." He said pulling her close and forcing her to accept his embrace. "If you don't want to face a lifetime of solitude I suggest you lighten up." He whispers pressing a kiss against her cheek before letting her go.

He's serious.

She knows he is. He wouldn't joke about that, wouldn't ever make a promise he couldn't keep. She doesn't want that, is downright terrified of being forced into solitary. 

He grasps her hand again and she just stares, defeated. He tugs for her to follow and she does. Wishing she'd drag her feet, wishing she'd kick and scream. Wishing she was stronger.

He takes her back to his room and grabs her shirt off his bed. He hands it to her, still frowning, still so upset with her.

"Do not run around my house looking like that." He lectures and she puts her shirt on. "It's indecent."

"I'm sorry." She whispers and he just rubs his cut, glancing at his finger to look at the blood.

"I'm so sorry..." she doesn't want to be locked up, she doesn't want to be alone, she doesn't want to be forced in a small space if he's the only person that will come see her.

She's afraid, can only imagine never seeing her siblings again. It's a painful thought.

————————————————————

She sits on the couch in silence, looking at her bruised hand, waiting, hoping someone would ask what's wrong. Nobody does, nobody cares, nobody thinks that she's any more moody than any other day.

She's glad because doesn't know how she would have responded. Doesn't know what she would have done if somebody, anybody asked her what was wrong.

No, she knows she would have said nothing.

They would have dropped the subject.

Her skin crawls, her body aches in ways she doesn't understand, and she just wants to forget. She goes to a bathroom, the nearest one, and undresses.

She's so dirty, so freaking dirty and yet she has already bathed today. She can't help that her skin is so filthy from his touch. She gets in the shower and lets hot water dowse her. 

It burns, it stings, but it makes her feeling of uncleanliness disappear. It doesn't help ease her mind, no not at all, she's still so terrified of him, her own father.

————————————————————

Her mother holds out her palm, two pills glisten on it, beckoning her to take them. She reaches her hand out, grasps the two pills, and downs them with a drink of water. Her mother smiles like she's so happy, she has seemly forgotten everything.

It hurts.

She smiles at her mother.

Her mother gives her a goodnight kiss on her forehead. She turns and gets into bed while her mother flicks the light off.

"Goodnight sweetie."

"Goodnight" she calls back rolling over and closing her eyes. She's fine, feels the familiar feeling of her wires being removed from her mind. Then she falls asleep, in that stage of somewhere between awake and unconscious.

Nothing happens, she doesn't dream.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy non/con ahead.
> 
> This chapter hurt to write, not that it’s really all that disturbing considering some future events, but nonetheless it was.
> 
> Just know the next chapter is lighter, includes sibling bonding, and some comfort.

There's no one here.

The mere realization is enough to make her blood run cold. She slept right through her siblings getting up and around for an Umbrella Academy mission. That's it isn't it? The only reason all of them would be missing.

She stands in the hallway, her head pounding, and she scans their open doors. She can't even believe that she could sleep through their loud chattering, and her father's no doubt unforgiving speech.

She takes a deep breath, telling herself she needs to get it together. This isn't a big deal.

She goes back into her room to grab clothes, the foundation, and goes to a bathroom to take a bath. The sudden loneliness sparks a whole breed of terror in her, she just imagines her father dragging her away, forcing her into a room from which she'd never be allowed to leave.

That is one of her worst fears, one she didn't even have until yesterday.

She plugs the bathtub and starts the water. Hoping another bath will help her nerves.

————————————————————

It didn't help, not really, but she's still glad she took it even if at this point it seems repetitive. Her hair is damp, her body is fresh, and she is hungry. She'd almost go as far as saying she's starving from not eating. It's a weird feeling, she's never really experienced hunger cramps before but she knows already that she doesn't like them.

She can't find her mother, which isn't necessarily concerning since she might just be in a cleaning mood. Still, she can say that she's sure this is one of those rare times that she feels completely alone.

She peers in the fridge and sees her breakfast wrapped in ceramic wrap. she takes it out and rips the clear wrapping off before tossing it in the trash.

She eats breakfast alone, not the first time, and definitely not the last time she will. She eats her cold pancakes covered in butter since they don't own syrup. She had only ever tasted it once before her father had decided that the substance was too sugary.

She's fine with that, never particularly cared, but sometimes she can't help but wonder what she's missing out on.

She sighs eating at her own pace since she doesn't have to worry about her father's gaze. In fact, she wishes she could eat like this more often. It's nice to eat, and not have to worry about someone staring at you.

It’s quiet and she feels so alone.

The worst part is that sinking hole of loneliness getting bigger and bigger in her chest. She's worried, scared that it'll get so big that she'll be consumed by it. She's dreading the day when it becomes too much. 

She doesn't want to go into solitary.

————————————————————

She walks out of the dining room, full, and cold. She hums a toon, something she's been working on playing, and the front door clicks open, she freezes. Her father walks inside and behind him are her siblings. The only thing really worth noting is that their hands are occupied with little white bowls and little white spoons.

They got ice cream, a little reward their father sometimes offered for a job well. She, on the other hand, was rarely ever offered physical rewards like that, more likely than not she just got a pat on the head. She didn't hate that, was more than content with affection, but now she hates the thought.

She doesn't move, waits until he acknowledges her so she knows whether she should come closer or move away. He looks at her with such a stern look that she feels her face burning. Hates when he looks at her like that but she can accept that look more than when he looks at her like she's a piece of meat.

"Seven, please see me before dinner." He said as if he was talking about the weather like it's just so normal. 

She nods and stares at her siblings as he leaves. As he walks past her, his eyes never wandering to her. She hates it, how he's said that little phrase. Usually, he says 'would you' in front of his commands to add that there's an illusion of a choice but he didn't do that. He was telling her she didn't have one.

"Do not eat that in front of me!" Klaus basically yelled drawing her attention back to them. "That is disgusting."

Diego grins, taking a spoonful of green ice cream, before shoveling it in his mouth. Klaus makes a noise, a terrible noise of displeasure. "That was just cruel!" He said turning his face to the side.

"It's mint get over it," Diego takes another bite.

"Exactly! What kind of monster would eat that? It tastes like you are chugging a tube of toothpaste."

"Don't put that image in my mind!" Allison walks away, up the stairs right past her, to distance herself from that conversation, Luther follows suit.

"It does not," Diego rolls his eyes but Klaus isn’t deterred.

"It literally does."

She wants to smile, wants to enjoy how happy this makes her, but she's too caught up in her own thoughts. Her father wants to see her before dinner, that's a lifetime away considering breakfast just past. He gave her such a big gap of time that she can't help but think it's because he wants her to struggle with the choice.

Go now or go later. She'll probably wait until the last minute when all of her nerves are shot, and she has come to terms with the fact that she's going to go to him of her own free will, even if it's because she was threatened.

"Here." Five drops his bowl in her hands. She stares, blinks at it, and he groans. "You can have it. I haven't touched it." She smiles, imagines that she glows.

"Thank you!" He's nice, always been a good brother at least in recent years, and he's never quite liked sweets. She takes a bite and he walks away satisfied with that.

It's vanilla, the run of the mill, ordinary flavor, but she tries not to think about that because it's a weird thing to get worked up about. She eats, content with the sweet treat.

————————————————————

If Allison is like the sun, then Klaus might be a bigger brighter sun, one that warms even the darkest days, and is noticeable when it's burning out, it's flames flickering out of existence. So her metaphors aren't great, that's more of his thing, but she still thinks that it's accurate to a fault.

Klaus is sitting on the couch upside down, his head dangling by the floor, which would be heavily scolded if their father was around. He's staring into the open air as if he was really looking at something. 

It's concerning.

She bends down beside him and pokes his face. He bats her hand away.

"Dead people talk to me." He said as if this was a new revelation. It isn't in the slightest, although the lackluster tone is new.

"What do they talk about?" She asks unable to think of anything else and he frowns.

"Don't know." He kicks his feet, places a hand on the floor, and flips over. He huffs a breath, "I don't like listening to them," He pushes his head into the couch cushions "But I probably should, shouldn't I?" She stands and holds out a hand for him.

"Are they loud?" She grasps his hand to help him stand.

"Loud and annoying." He said so matter of factly that her heart thumps in her chest.

"I'm sorry." She is sorry he has to deal with voices, she's sorry he has to deal with dead people. He shrugs, combs a hand through his hand causing its strains to go in all directions.

"It looks much better when it's going in one direction." Her mother pops into existence, at least that's how it feels, one minute she wasn't here, and the next she is. Her mother runs a hand in Klaus's hair, smoothing it, and her brother makes noises of displeasure.

He throws a hand over his head and jumps away from her. "I like it like this." He said, practically growled out as if he had something to prove before he turned and walks out of the room. 

He's back to normal.

Her mother smiles, tilts her head, staring at his back before losing interest. She turns and starts dusting, everything, and anything, despite that there isn't any need to.

"I missed you at breakfast." She says, jokes, is really only making small talk but her mother flinches.

"Really? How strange." Her mother said sweetly, and she turns away, a small forced smile on her lips. 

She absolutely hates how that makes her feel, how all of a sudden all of her spider senses go off telling her something is wrong.

"I enjoyed breakfast. Thank you for saving me some." Her mother just smiles and nods, never looking at her. She hates this, hates when her mother gets like this, it makes her so uncomfortable.

Her mother usually only gets like this if she's hiding something, she's a terrible liar. Her father made mother like this so that she'd never be able to keep any secrets from him.

So she'd have to tell him everything she sees, everything she hears, that's why although her arms are always wide open and accepting it's hard to talk to her. 

She tells him everything.

————————————————————

She wonders if she could accept this, the fact that she's outside her father's door, as a matter of fact. It's something she can't change, can't fight, can't even deny. 

He's smart, he has money, and a cruel way of thinking. But beyond all that he's her father, that is an unchanging fact, and despite everything, she still feels those tings of loyalty towards him. That isn't going to go away overnight, but she wishes it would. 

Wishes she wouldn't feel so guilty like some part of her blames herself.

She knocks once and hopes she hears nothing. She holds her breath and prays for him to ignore her, for him to tell her to leave. All she hears is silence, and she feels relief for a moment.

Until the door opens, revealing her father, he looks at her for a good minute before moving aside allowing her room to walk inside. She doesn't look at him as she passes him, fear bubbles in her stomach.

She tells her herself that she has to be here, that she has no choice, because she never wants to be locked up, never wants to be alone.

She wants to ask why he wanted to see her, but she doesn't, she'd actually throw up if she had to hear him say it. Say that he wants to kiss her, that he wants to touch her skin, or force his hand into her underwear. She'd really throw up if he said anything like that.

She doesn't even want to imagine it.

So she stays silent, hands wrapped around herself as a terribly weak self-defense mechanism. He shuts his door, doesn't lock it, no, lets the fact that she could escape at any time torture her.

He wouldn't let her off so easily if she ran away again. He'd drag her back, hold her arms so hard that they'd bruise black and blue, before locking her away somewhere. She swallows, her throat drying up at her thoughts.

He's so cruel, has always been, but she's never been on the wrong side of his hand like this before.

He doesn't look at her, walks right by her and goes to a desk in his room, before grabbing his tie and yanking. It pulls out almost seamlessly, like a skill he's mastered, and he drops it on the desk before taking his suit's coat off, exposing a pure white shirt that rarely ever saw daylight.

She shivers despite the fact that room is warm. He looks back at her, and he seems to almost be relaxed now. She wishes she wasn't so scared, wasn't so terrified of his every move, because this really is an amazing sight. To see her father let his guard down.

She wishes she could appreciate it, she knows this is the type of thing that would have made her happy before. 

It just feels wrong now.

"Relax..." he raises his hand towards her cheek, in that way he always does, but she clenches her eyes. She's afraid that he's going to hit her, can't help that fear. The hand lands gently on her cheek, cupping her face so that he can lean down and steal a kiss.

She tries to ignore the sensation of his lips pressing against her, his goatee rubs her chin, but she tries to imagine something else. Nothing comes to mind except the need the say no, to tell him to stop. He wouldn't listen anyway but she wants to because she can't do this, she isn't strong enough.

She has to reason with him, tell him he's got it all wrong. That she's not ready, she doesn't want this. His lips pull away, and she just buries her face in his chest. He places a hand on her head, runs his fingers through her hair.

"I'm too little." She mumbles into to him, hoping he will hear this and understand that he can't do this. That she is far too young, that she's barely considered a teen, and she's sure she's not ready for...sex. It'd hurt so much wouldn't it? Because she's so young?

She's scared, hopes he listens to her reason.

"Nonsense," he rubs his hand again and again through her hair, "you're old enough."

She clenches a hand in his shirt, her palms shaking, as she tries again to reason with him. "I've never seen a...penis." She barely could get that word out, her face flushes so red that she has to stop pushing her face into his chest to take deep breaths. She's sure if she wasn't taking such deep breathes she would faint.

He hopes he hears this and realizes she's not ready, that she's far too young for him to want her.

"I know." It's simple, to the point, and makes it so real. He knows, he understands that she's too little, and yet he is treating her like this. She feels so weak and helpless, she's sure that no matter what point she brings up that he'll talk himself out of it.

He is quick on his feet, always had that ability to think five steps ahead. She'd always wished she could inherit that trait from him but Five is probably the only one who did along with his stubborn nature.

"I...I" she tries to think of something else, any reason, she just needs something that will make him understand. She knows its wishful thinking at this point but she just can't accept this.

She doesn't want solitary but that doesn't mean she can just accept whatever this is rationally. She still has so many questions, she is still so confused, she still doesn't understand what she's supposed to do.

He pulls, guides her to the bed, and she lets him. Lets him wrap an arm around her waist, lets him pull her on his lap, and then she panics. It's a strange sudden panic that she can't understand.

It just boils up out of nowhere, she pushes her father, tries to get up, only for him to grab her arm so tightly that she has to clench her teeth to avoid yelling from the pain. She stops fighting, worried he might break her.

"Calm down." He said in that ordering tone she doesn't like it. Hates that she gets no choice, hates that she can't get up when this is making her so uncomfortable.

She trembles on his lap, practically shakes from the fear, but stops, freezes in place when she feels him, when she realizes that she's rubbing against him. She hates it, absolutely can't stand the way that he almost feels like he's twitching against her. 

She hates it so much because somehow she's unsure if she's really feeling him or if she's just that paranoid. It's scary to be so unsure, to think for a moment that she's really losing her mind.

"I'm scared..." she whispers to the air in front of her, for a moment glad that he didn't make her face him. He kisses her neck, sucks at it, and then pulls her back against him using that arm that's wrapped around her waist.

"Why?" He lets his hand not holding her down grasp her hand, entangling their fingers. His hand is cold, her palm shakes but he just keeps on holding it like he thinks it's really supposed to comfort her.

She doesn't have an answer, she thinks it should be obvious. That she feels him, that she knows that he probably wants to stick that inside of her. She knows that she'd break if he did that.

She would bleed, and let out the most blood-curling screams imaginable from the pain because she couldn't handle it. She isn't supposed to be able to handle it. He has to know that he'd tear her if he tried.

It's impossible for him to put this thing inside of her. She's too little, her body just isn't ready yet.

"I don't like this." He let the hand wrapped around her pull her again. She knows she feels him, it makes her feel so sick, knowing that he's feeling good from having her on top of it. He rubs against her, slow movements that is making her stomach churn. She clenches a hand in his pants needing something to keep herself together.

She closes her eyes, wishing she could imagine she was somewhere safe, somewhere with her siblings. She wishes she wasn't on her father's lap.

"Why didn't you keep going...yesterday." She clenches his pants harder, hoping he doesn't take this the wrong way. She just wants to know if there's any she could make this stop.

"There's no need for us to rush." He kisses her neck again and she just wants to sob but she doesn't. she's used up all her tears, doesn't think she could if she tried.

Something clicks behind her, she goes rigid in his grasp, and she feels him doing something. She doesn't want to look, acts like she's off in her own world, but she can't really get there. 

Her anxiety won't let her disconnect from what's happening but she wishes it would.

In flash of movement, he manages to get her on her back on the bed, and he hovers over her. It's enough to make her imagine the feeling of him forcing his hand into her underwear, it's enough to make her imagine hearing those noises she made.

It's enough to make her remember how quiet he was, that until he pushed against her she didn't even think he was enjoying it. She hates it, how quiet he is, she bets if she never talked that he'd never say anything.

She looks at him and sees it. His pants unbuttoned, and him fiddling with the zipper.

She goes into panic mode.

He is not going to put that inside of her. He isn't serious, isn't seriously going to rape her.

"No!" She grabs his shirt, hears it rip when she tugs on it. "I don't want to!" She pulls harder, hears another rip, and his zipper starts to make a sound.

"I'm your...your daughter." He has to listen to reason, he's a reasonable man.

"biologically no," he said as his zipper was pulled all the way down and his hand moved to push down his pants "but even if you were it wouldn't matter. We can't reproduce." His words send a shiver up her spine, she wonders if she's as pale as she feels.

He really said reproduce, really said that disgusting word to her. He's insane, he has to be. What is he even talking about?

He can see him, the outline of his penis in his boxers, and she tries to scoot away. She scoots up only an inch before a tight grip on her arm forces her back down. 

"Please, you can't do this to me." She pleads, begs for him to listen to her. She wrings her hands in his shirt, keeps pulling, and pushing but it doesn't matter to him. 

He stills, and for a moment she hopes, wishes, prays to anyone that will hear her that it's because he's realized he can't do this.

"Why not?" He stops his movements, one of his hands grasp her arm, and the other one is at the side of his boxers. He's waiting for her to give him a response, she's disturbed at the sight of him, and is more than terrified that she doesn't have a response good enough to make him stop.

"I don't want..." she doesn't want to be raped, she doesn't want that thing inside of her, she would throw up. She would really throw up if he tried, if he could even fit that inside without ripping her apart. 

She doesn't want him to do this.

"I don't want you to be a rapist." She said it with all of the courage she could manage and he gives her the most dumbstruck look she's ever seen him have. She wonders if it was a really stupid thought, or if it was actually a good one.

Is it weird though? For her to not want that for him, not want him to be someone like that? She'd forgive him right now, forgive him for everything if he said sorry. She'd forgive him without any more questions, she'd cry into his chest while telling him how scared she felt, and then she'd want him to tell her that everything is going to be alright.

It isn't too late for that, it's never too late for that, at least she hopes she can keep her optimism.

He laughs into her neck, she can feel him smiling and his breath tickles her. "Where did I go wrong?" He groans in Between laughs, he leans on her and she feels as if he's going to crush her with his weight.

His laughter crackles off, he sits up and gives her a sincere smile. "That's wrong," he explains while rubbing a hand down her arm "there's no need for you to try and defend what I'm doing." He rubs his hand up and down her arm, it's warming up from being on her for so long.

"Thank you for your consideration though it wasn't necessary." He kisses her, and she can barely register the feeling.

Tears pool in her eyes, she can't help it, she's so confused. She wishes she knew what she was supposed to feel but he just keeps making her feel like she doesn't know her left from her right.

His hand returns to his boxers and she is more than petrify. She had hoped, prayed that he would have stopped, that he would have his mood spoiled again.

He starts pushing down his boxers, she doesn't look, doesn't want to see what's underneath. She doesn't need to look when he moves, when he pushes his naked hips into her. She can feel it, has never felt something that had ever repulsed her so much in her life. Just knowing what that is, that thing that is so warm pushed up against her, makes her wish she could just disappear.

"No!" She pushes again, knows she shouldn't be fighting, knows that he has ways to make her regret it. "Don't put that inside me, you can't!" Her voice came out all high pitched from the fear that manifested itself in her throat.

"I'm not." He said, moving his hips against her, and she feels it twitch, actually twitch as he rubs against her clothed privates. She hates how her legs jump in response, and all she wants to do is close them, but he doesn't let her.

She tries again to move, to scoot away, to get away from that thing, and for once he doesn't stop her. He lets her scoot all the way up until she's sitting against the wall, and she looks at him like he's some sort of predator.

"Shh..." he said scooting beside her, and she all the while focused on his face, never once looking down. He grasped her hand, and dragged it down, and at first, she didn't understand. It took her a good second to realize what he was doing.

She cringed, tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was too strong. She looks down, for the first time looks down, only to see it, feel it, him wrapping her hand around himself. Her grip is loose, her nerves don't seem to be listening, but he just wraps his hand around hers, and guides it up and down.

She almost gags at the noise their movements are causing and it looks so nasty.

She's never seen one before so she doesn't know if they all like this. If they all are just weird wrinkled skin rods, that almost appear to be protecting something. She is almost scared stiff, would be if he wasn't forcing her to rub him like this.

If she had just seen him, she'd probably puke from the sight of him, but the gross movements she's forced to make is enough to keep her from emptying her stomach.

It pulsates in her hand and she wants to let go because she's worried it might burn her. He won't let her stop but she wants to. He's making noise, small occasional groans, and hushed breaths.

"I don't- I don't." She doesn't want to, wishes he would stop making her touch him like this. She has never wanted to touch anyone like this, has never thought about, never even imagined it. 

She hates it so much.

"You can leave after this." He kisses her cheek, makes a promise against her. She wants to leave, wants to scrub her hand until it bleeds, and she forgets it was ever on him. He tightens his grip on her hand, making her feel every wrinkle on him, and then he starts twisting their grasp on each upstroke.

She hates feeling the head, hates that something comes out of it making her hand feel so sticky and gross. She wonders if that substance is corrosive because her hand feels like it's on fire.

She keeps telling herself that it'll be over soon, that it could be worst, that he could decide to rip her clothes off and shove this thing inside of her. If she does this, if she makes him happy, he won't do that to her, right?

She can do this.

She can handle this.

She can keep it together if this satisfies him, if he promises that he won't stick this rod inside of her.

There's a knock on the door, the door that's unlocked, and she freezes so afraid that somebody might come inside and see her like this. With her hand on his penis, and him making noises against her neck.

He looks over at the door, displeased at the interruption. She shakes, her resolve leaving, and fear filling its place. Her father's hand starts guiding hers again, and she can barely believe it.

He isn't afraid, isn't going to stop, he doesn't care that at any moment somebody could walk in, he's too powerful to care.

Another set of knocks sound, but her father just buries his face in her neck, silencing his noises of pleasure. 

"Father?" Its Luther's voice, Luther's voice so clear because these walls are thin. 

Her father leans back, never letting her stop the movement on his rod, his rod that almost seems to glisten now from that pearly substance that she finds so gross.

"What?" He said, and it sounded so normal, only really came off like he was in a bad mood.

"Can we talk?"

"It can wait." He twitches in her grasp, and she cringes again, can't stand how it feels.

Luther is so close, right outside the door, she wants to scream. She wants to tell him she's there, all she would have to do is say something, anything, but her voice isn't coming out, she wills it to, but it's been corrupted by her fear.

"It's about the mission."

Her father stops his movements, and sucks on to her neck, teasing the skin with his teeth, before lightly biting down. For a moment she thinks he stopped because he's finally gotten his sense back but then it starts twitching in her grasp again. The pearly substance comes out in bursts, and it gets all over her hand.

He removes his teeth from her neck, and kisses the bite mark.

She shakes, keeps opening and closing her fingers, watching that disgusting vile substance move around. She hates it, finds it so revolting that she can't take her eyes off of it.

Her father sighs, before putting himself away, and making his lower half Presentable. 

"Fine, we can discuss things in a moment."

Luther waits patiently outside.

Her father grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and starts wiping her hands, slow, and methodically. She just wants to run, she wants to go to the bathroom, and sit in front of the toilet because she's about to throw up.

She keeps looking at the door, can't wait until she can bolt.

"We can tell him." She whips her head around so quickly because she can hardly believe her ears. "I'll tell him I forced myself on you."

Her eyes widen, can't even believe what she's hearing. "Do you know what he'll do? He'll laugh, think that I'm joking because who would want somebody ordinary like you?" It hurts, stings, and somehow it sounds so real, sounds so true because her father said it.

He's just confirming some of her own fears.

She can imagine them not believing her because she's ordinary...why would her father do this, do this to someone not worth a thing. That wouldn't make sense, right?

"Just imagine it." Her father said grasping her now clean hand, "your brother laughing at you, laughing because if I was going to force myself on anyone it'd be Three right? Because she's become such an extraordinary woman."

She feels tears well up in her eyes, she's trapped, and she knows it. He's right, he's so right. "Shhh..." he hushed, pulling her close, and giving a hug to comfort her broken heart.

"It's going to be alright." 

She cries into his chest while he pats her head. It only lasts until Luther makes noise outside, a groan, a noise of impatience but it's enough to make her wish she could be comforted like that forever because she needs it. She knows she shouldn't accept it from him but...he is right.

He's right and it makes her sick. They'll never believe that their father chose her to force himself on. She's so ordinary and weak. 

Nobody would ever want her.

His hugs help, his scent makes her feel better, and she'd do anything just to have him pat her head for hours.

She pulls away and pats at her puffy eyes. "I'm sorry." She doesn't know what she's apologizing for, half the time she doesn't. She looks away, gets off the bed and he does the same. He gives her a weird look, almost looks like he's pitying her.

"Everything is fine, trust me." He said patting her head again as he opens the door. "Sorry for the wait."

Luther stares, his eyes widen, confused at her presence. "She has been feeling rather ill lately." Her father offered him as an explanation before gesturing for Luther to make way for her to get through. He does, and his eyes look really sad.

She walks away and doesn't look back, can't look back, but she hears Luther say something.

"I hope she hasn't caught the flu again." 

————————————————————

She sits in front of the toilet, puke continuously comes up her throat, and she braces herself against the toilet as she lets it all out. It sounds disgusting but not as disgusting as that sound that happened every time he forced her to do a downstroke. She keeps gaging, the sound echoing around her.

A hand is placed on her back, for a moment she freezes, until the hand goes to hold her hair. "Are you okay? Should I-I get mom?" It's Diego, and he's panicking. She tries to tell him she's okay, tries to tell him she's going to be fine, but she can't even get a word out before she's throwing up again.

He lets go of her hair, stands and rushes out of the room. Heat travels up her back, and it reaches her face, but she just keeps her head in the toilet as another wave of nausea fell over her.

She doesn't hear footsteps, just sees that blue hue reflected in the toilet seat, and knows Five is there. He sits beside her, rubs her back, and mumbles about something. 

She doesn't understand.

She doesn't understand until he goes to hold her hair and his hand touches where her father bit her. Light, but enough to leave an indent in her skin.

She's scared, immediately backs up, throwing a hand over her neck, hiding that mark. She scoots back, shaking, crying, and trembling on the floor.

"Vanya..." he said holding out his hand as if he was trying to tame a wild dog.

Her throat constricts again, she throws her opposite hand over her mouth, but it isn't enough. She throws up, painting herself in her own gross puke. She's disgusting and so filthy.

She pulls her knees up, squishing the puke around, and she digs her nails into her neck. She digs as hard as she can, she feels it when the skin breaks.

She's going to erase that bite mark.

Five grabs her hand, trying to stop her and in the process ends up in her puddle of throw up. It just makes her sob a series of apologies.

"I'm sorry!" She sobs digging her nails into her neck again. Her face is hot, she's embarrassed from making such a mess of herself.

"Vanya!" Five said ripping her hand away from her neck and she saw her fingertips covered in blood. She felt so relieved, now nobody would be able to tell what's on her neck, right? 

That's good, relief flows over her like water on a warm day. She feels so much better.

"Vanya!" Five says again shaking her but all she really sees is the room spinning behind him. 

Her brain stopped functioning, stopped recording, it feels like she's had a light bulb burst in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some light angst <3
> 
> You can really just consider this the calm before the storm. The next chapter is going to be depressing.

She's suffocating.

She can't breathe, she's so warm that she's sure that if she wasn't already dead to the world that she'd be blacking out again. She can't move, she's pulled snug against something, and it just feels like she is going to be crushed.

She tries to move her head, but she can barely twist her neck due to fabric constricting around it, bandages she believes. Even though she can't move her head she gets a whiff of her father's scent and she freezes.

She opens her eyes, terrified to realize that she's in her father's bed, and he's sleeping behind her, pulling her into his body, nearly crushing her to death. He blows hot breaths into her hair, giving her goosebumps down her spine.

He's wearing something soft and light, pajamas that she wasn't sure he even owned. She can feel his rod, warm, against her through his clothes, and she wishes she didn't. She's so disgusted, but she's stuck here.

At least he's sleeping, she assumes.

Her throat burns, her stomach churns, she feels so sick. What did he tell them to get her in his bed? Why did her siblings let this happen? 

Did he say she was ill?

She scared, shakes in his hold, and she keeps telling herself he didn't do that. But she knows it would have been a great time, after her little episode nobody would doubt that she was ill.

He pulls her impossibly closer to him with the hand that's wrapped around her waist. She doesn't move, barely breathes, she can't do a lot when it feels like he's about to suffocate her.

"Father..." she whispers, doesn't really expect him to hear her but she needs to tell him that he's about to make her pass out.

He hums and just pulls her in closer to him yet. She brings her shaky palm up to the hand around her waist and taps it. Which makes his hand twitch, and his grip so tight that a strangled hoarse noise of pain made it out of her burned throat. 

"That hurts." She whimpers, a shake goes through her body before he stops bruising her stomach.

"Stop squirming." His voice comes off tired and uninterested.

"I...I"

"Be quiet," He rubs her belly in circling motions. "Go to sleep."

She can't, there's no way she can when she can barely breathe, and he's pressing so hard against her. Her stomach cramps and she curses herself for having her episode before eating dinner.

Her mouth tastes sour and somehow like vanilla. She hates it, hates how she's in her pajamas when she definitely wasn't a few hours ago. Did he change her? Did he look at her naked unconscious body? She wiggles in his grasp as she tries to flip herself around to face him.

It's a struggle, his grasp is bruising on her skin, but eventually, he understands what she's doing, and lets up enough to allow her to flip. She takes deep breaths, stares at his opened eyes, and she tries to calm her heart.

"Happy now?" He said but it sounded like he was angry. He must be, for her making such a terrible scene.

She nods, and he closes his eyes.

She tries to imagine that she had a nightmare, that she came begging to her father who finally relented and allowed her to stay. She tries to imagine she's in his bed because he's comforting her from some scary monster.

She knows it's stupid, she's probably delusional at this point, but she still tries to imagine that he's just her father who only wants her to be safe.

————————————————————

She awakens again, still warm, but this time she can breathe. An arm is loosely thrown around her waist, and her neck is less irritated.

She opens her eyes, only to realize that he's awake. He's so close to her, he has bed head, and he's just staring at her face. She immediately jolts in her father's hold, causing him to tighten the grip around her before she flushes red. 

As she lays there, the silence of the room creeps back into her bones, she waits for him to do something, but he doesn't. His hold lessens and she relaxes, at least as much as she can in his grasp.

She brings a hand up and clenches it into his pajama top. "Sorry." She doesn't know what she's apologizing for, again, but she does it anyway. She assumes some part of her just wants to make sure he isn't mad at her for making such a fool of herself.

He doesn't respond.

She moves her hand and reaches it to his head, and he doesn't stop her. She rubs the hair, fixes it so that it goes in one direction. His eyes are still focused on her but she's trying not to be bothered.

"Five saw the bite marks..." she whispers, has to tell someone how uncomfortable that fact makes her, how the mere nature of what that applied gave her a panic attack.

He doesn't look bothered, nor does he make any movements. "And what?" He said bringing a hand up to her hand removing it from his head. "Let him see." He rubs her hand, before kissing her fingers, "he is already aware of what's happening."

She freezes, can't help but stare at him in disbelief. "Don't worry," he lets go of her hand "I've already discussed things with him, he won't bother us." He says it like he's convinced that she wants this too, despite the fact that he's had to threaten her multiple times. She shivers, looks away from his eyes because she's scared. If he's really telling the truth then what is she supposed to do? 

Five was the only one, the only one she thought would listen to her. She wasn't planning on talking not yet, she doesn't want solitary, she doesn't want to be laughed at, but she thought that maybe Five...

She doesn't know anymore, the entire reason she scratched her neck up was because she didn't want Five to know but now all she knows is that her efforts were in vain. Five knew, he knows, and yet he let her father take her away.

"Besides, I didn't even break your skin when I bit you. Those marks would have faded in minutes." She looks back up to him, a frown on her face, and her broken heart trying to beat in her chest. "Does it really bother you?" He brings a hand up to rub her neck.

"Would you feel better if you got to do the same to me?" He drops his hand and leans his head in such a way that lets his neck on full display. "You can," He said it with sincerity and she stares at his neck as he swallows.

She wants to bite him, she wants to dig her teeth into his neck until blood fills her mouth, but she doesn't. Some part of her would enjoy that, like some twisted form of revenge, and she hates the thought.

She never wants to let that part of her out.

So she just kisses his neck, a quick kiss with barely any pressure behind it, before she pulled away. He looks back to her, a smile on his lips, as he brings a hand up to lay on his own neck.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" He asks, not acknowledging the kiss she gave him, and she is glad he didn't.

She nods.

————————————————————

She eats, not a lot, but she's eating.

Her father reads the newspaper, so she isn't being constantly stared at by him today. She nibbles at her pancakes and pokes her eggs. Even if her father isn't staring at her everyone else is.

Five is her only sibling not actively trying to make her melt with their stares.

————————————————————

She catches Five's hand as he tries to go into his room. She needs to know, needs to know if her father was telling the truth. He stops, stares ahead for a good minute, before finally looking back at her.

"I lied..." she swallows, trying to wet her incredibly dry throat "it wasn't a bug bite." He frowns, immediately glares at her, before yanking her into his room and shutting the door.

"It was a bug bite." 

"It wasn't. You saw, didn't you? That bite mark?" She insists but just looks at her strangely.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said it with such a terrible tone that for a moment he caused her heartbeat to skyrocket in her chest.

"But-"

"But nothing. I saw nothing." He said with all his usual confidence, and she brought a hand up to remove her bandages but he stops her. 

"Don't."

His glare fades, and he throws his hands around her, giving her a hug.

“I saw, okay? Just keep those on.” He rubs her back, as she frowns, her face pushed into his neck. "Im aware of where you got those marks.” He whispers, disgust lacing his voice, and he just pulls her in tightly. “I'm on your side, I promise, but it'd kill them if they knew. You can’t tell them, not yet."

"Our siblings?” He just nods and pulls her closer. It's a small moment where they just share each other's heat, and it makes her wonder what he's thinking.

How long has he known? How long has he seen her filth? Why is he still touching her when he knows how dirty she is?

She pushes against him so she doesn't accidentally spread her filth to him, he lets go and gently guides her out of his room. "We can’t discuss this right now." He said, whispers, as he shuts the door in her face. She stares at the wooden door, and for a moment hates it.

"Vanya." A hand is placed on her hand and she turns to face Diego. He frowns at her, places his opposite hand on the back of his neck, scratching it like he's guilty or something.

"I'm sorry."

She tilts her head to the side, and frowns back at him, confused by his actions. He just frowns even harder at her, "I shouldn't have left you alone." She smiles, hits a hand off his chest in a joking manner.

"Don't worry so much." He lets his hand drop from his neck. "I'm alright, you went to get mother." He squeezes her hand. "I knew you were coming back for me."

He looks at her so sadly, but she doesn't understand. He shouldn't be sad, he didn't do anything wrong, but he just keeps looking at her like he's about to cry.

She smiles, tries hard to make her happiness contagious, but maybe fake happiness isn't that easy to spread.

————————————————————

Luther comes to her, with bandages in his hand, and a frown on his face.

Luther looks like he's caught between caring for her and hating her. She knows where his distaste stems from, and she accepts it although it hurts. He wants nothing more than to be their father's favorite, he wants to soak up their father's affection but she's been getting in the way of that.

If it was up to her she'd gladly give him all of her father's affection.

He peels back her bandages, as if she was made of glass, and could shatter at any moment. He goes so slowly, that she's half-convinced that it's because he doesn't want to see what's underneath.

She hisses when herself made cuts are hit with the cold air. He places the dirty bandages covered with dry blood on his lap, before starting to wrap her neck back up.

"Do you need...someone to talk to?" He asks, going into his leader mode, where he somehow believes himself worthy of being a therapist. She shakes her head, she isn't sure when she'll ever be ready to talk about what’s happening to her, even if she was, she isn't allowed to.

Five knows.

Five told her not to tell.

She trusts him.

She wouldn't tell anyway, because her stomach churns each time she thinks about solitary, or about how much her siblings would laugh at her.

He rips the bandages with ease and tucks in the end around her neck. "You know I don't hate you, right?" He said, rubs her neck, and lets his shoulders droop.

"Of course I do." She knows, maybe, that he just loves to tease her, and most of the time he acts like he hates her to make their father like him. At least she's just going to sit here and lie to him, she knows he doesn't like her, even if he doesn't completely hate her.

"You have to take care of yourself." He said, standing, taking the dirty bandages with him to dispose of them elsewhere.

She just watches him leave, before throwing her head back against her wall, staring at the holes in her ceiling.

She feels so empty right now.

What is she supposed to do? Play her violin with her tainted hands? She doesn't have any motivation to at the moment even if she could imagine they weren't filthy. One of the main reasons that she plays the violin is because it makes her father happy and proud of her for something. Now she isn't sure that she ever wants to play again.

She can't help but feel like there's something wrong with her.

Her father keeps speaking to her in a tone like she's supposed to want that-the touching and the kissing. Maybe she is supposed to...how would she really know? He's never really given the birds and the bees talk before so despite how much she hates it, and how much she feels like he shouldn't be touching her like this she is still confused.

He threatens her, makes her feel small and insignificant, but then he whispers such sweet and loving words like she's supposed to like it. He used that word, 'forced', which should be all she needs to know that she's right to be feeling such disgust.

Still, she can't help but wonder if maybe she's the one who has lost their marbles. 

Is she supposed to like it? Is she supposed to allow the kissing, and touching? It feels so wrong that she's sure she's right to hate it.

Yet here she is still so unsure.

Her mind just keeps taking her in seemly endless circles.

————————————————————

Allison offers to paint her nails.

It's the first time she's ever offered to do anything like this, but it just makes her heart crumble. She nods, accepts the offer, but she really hates that she can't appreciate this more.

Allison pulls her hand, pulls her off her bed, and drags her to her room. The room that smells like perfume every day. She guided to Allison's bed and she sits down while her sister gets out a black bag out of her closet.

Her sister brings the bag over, the contents make clicking noises as they are transported. Allison sits, places the bag on the bed, before finding a nice blue color. Allison takes one of her hands and starts to paint.

It's quiet, even awkward, only because they've rarely spent much time together. "Must be nice being daddy's little girl." She hates that phrase, how much it makes her feel like she's about to throw up all over again. She doesn't speak, doesn't argue that she's wrong, because it's true now isn't it?

"He had Luther take you to his own bedroom, he personally took care of you because you're sick." Allison glares at her nails and starts painting the next one. "When I'm sick he says 'too bad' and makes me train anyway," she said, holding her hand tighter as she moves on to the next finger.

"You like him," she paints the nice blue coat on her middle finger, while her skin flushes red "You act like he's...actually your father." She moves on the next finger.

"Do you know how much that hurts? To see you two actually act like you're family? While the rest of us are treated like toy soldiers?" She gets to the last nail with a frown on her lips.

"Its hurts to watch," her perfect sister whispered, her voice is coming out in a shaky tone, "I know he'll never love me half as much as he loves you."

It hurts, hurts to see tears start to fall down her sister's perfect cheeks. It hurts because it's all her fault, all her fault because she's accidentally stolen their father's...love. She's sure that isn't really true, he doesn't love her, because if he did he wouldn't touch her like that.

She raises her newly painted hand to touch her sister's shoulder, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. Allison slaps her hand, it burns, but she tries again to comfort her. Allison glares, stands, and points to the door.

"Out!" She said, yelled, made her feel like she's just a nuisance.

"Allison I," her sister pulls on her hand, and pushes her in the hallway, before slamming the door. "Allison!" She calls from beyond the door.

"Go away!" She hears back but all she wants to do is make her feel better.

She stands in front of the door, waiting, hoping Allison will open it, and accept a hug. She waits, waits as her feet start to ache, and her head starts to hurt. She starts peeling the nail polish off, realizing she didn't deserve the small gift her sister had given her.

By the time she's scratched all of her nails off she's decided that maybe Allison just needs alone time. She sighs, turns around only to bump into Klaus, who was seemly about to tap on her.

"Sorry!" She said as he rubs his chest.

"Did you make her mad?" He gestures with his head at Allison's door.

"I...yes." She whispers and he just starts to hum.

"You know you shouldn't do that, she'll keep grudges for literally ever." He made an exaggerated hand movement, that she isn't quite sure what it means.

She just stares at him, and he smiles back at her. "I'd offer to, you know, hang out with you, but I'm busy right now." He said, gesturing to something she can't see before she just nods and smiles.

She didn't want to hang out anyway.

————————————————————

She's getting another bath.

She knows someone must have wiped her down because she doesn't reek like puke, but she can still feel the filth on her body. She's worried that if she doesn't keep herself clean she'll spread her filth to her siblings, and she doesn't want that.

So she starts the bath before getting undressed. She notices, can't help but see a black and blue bruise on her arm from her father's grip. It doesn't hurt, at least it doesn't unless she pokes it, but she knows she can never let anyone see it.

She peels underneath her bandages and sees a few scratches. They aren't anything too bad, she assumes the bandages are just a precaution. She fixes them, before turning her attention to her bath.

She gets in the tub, the hot water soaking into her skin, and she closes her eyes as the water rises. She hopes, that she won't have to take so many baths soon because although she loves how much they help her, they really burn her skin.

All she feels right now is guilty because she didn't think about it too deeply, how much those acts of familial affection could hurt her sister. She gets it, understands it, and that's why it hurts so much.

She hates that she sometimes thought about rubbing it in their faces. Rubbing something so hurtful into the open cuts on their wounded hearts.

Do they all feel that way? Jealous because her father has come to fancy her so much? 

She just wants to cry.

————————————————————

She pats her hair with her towel, drying her utterly ordinary hair, as she makes her way to the stairs. She stops, hearing one of those sounds she hates-yelling. She isn't sure what's being said, she can never understand from the second floor.

She pushes her hands against the guard rail and it groans from her weight. She pays it no mind, knowing that's a common occurrence. Her siblings stand in a line mainly throwing Allison sympathetic glances because her eyes are red and puffy from crying.

Her father stands in front of them, yelling at them for something, at least that's what it looks like from where she's standing. She watches him make a gesture, and raise his voice with every word. He's angry, upset at something, and when he's like this he really looks like some dictator, or maybe a tyrant king.

"Imbeciles," That single hateful word echos through the house, and she cringes, hating that her father said such a thing. 

She wishes he wouldn't be so cruel, and heartless, but she knows that there's nothing she can do to change that. He's been acting nicer to her, showing her kindness, and letting his guard down. She knows that isn't the real him but she still wishes he could pretend. Her siblings wouldn't hate him so much if he at least acted as if he cared.

She knows that's too much to ask for...his soft side isn't real.

She frowns as she watches her father spout more cruel words, all the while completely ignoring Allison. He is ignoring the fact that she's upset.

He is ignoring her because he doesn't care. He refuses to baby them.

She feels a ping of guilt knowing that she's been babied for so long, and yet she hadn't truly appreciated that fact. 

She walks to the stairs, sits down, and waits for her father to get done ripping her siblings apart. Her heart aches, it thumps crazily in her chest begging her to go help her siblings even though she can't. She wishes she could, wishes she could walk down there and tell her father to stop.

She wishes she had that right, wishes he would listen but knows she'd just be punished.

————————————————————

She isn't sure how long she sat there like that, on the verge of tears, and her heart beating so loudly that it became the only thing she heard. She listened to it, so distracted that she didn't even notice that her siblings were done being scolded until they came stomping up the stairs.

They didn't stop to talk to her, they didn't stop to say hi.

They stomped the entire way up the stairs, clearly upset.

She wants to go comfort them, she wants to know what's wrong and what she can do, but all she hears is slamming doors and she knows they wouldn't want her help.

She sighs, tilts her head at that empty space that they had just walked by her in before she turns back to her look at her father. He is just fuming, but she doesn't know why. What did they do?

She walks down the stairs, carrying her towel since her hair is now dry, and she walks to him. He rubs a hand down his face, a scowl is placed permanently on his features, and he throws his head to the side and goes to the front door. He throws on his coat, buttons it up, and her mother comes out of the kitchen.

"Are you going out?" She asks, patting down her apron.

"Yes." He said so tonelessly that she wouldn't have known that he was so upset unless she had seen what had happened. "Do you want to come?" He asks, turning his her towards her, and she freezes. Suddenly wanting to ask stupidly if he meant her, but she is the only one here.

She nods, stupidly she knows, but she is rarely allowed outside the house. She's confident that she doesn't have to worry about him, she shouldn't have to worry about him, definitely not if they're going somewhere public.

He stares, doesn't smile, nor give any of his usual kind gestures towards her. 

"Come along them." He opens the door and begins walking down the steps, she has to run to catch up to him. Her mother happily takes her towel.

————————————————————

They take a limousine although it's just the two of them. She isn't really sure if they have any other modes of transportation since she's only ever been in this. It's cold since the space is usually filled with warm bodies but now it's just the two of them.

She rubs her ankles together, sits back straight, as her father is seemly contemplating his children's deaths beside her. She hasn't asked yet, doesn't think she has the courage to ask what they did.

It was probably bad.

She keeps looking over at him, his eyes stare into the depths of space, as his mouth is drawn in a thin line. He must be simmering inside, just waiting to explode, like a ticking time bomb. She isn't sure if she's allowed to speak, they usually aren't, but since it's just them...can she?

She stays silent.

She wants to ask what's wrong, she wants to help, wants to do what she can for him, but no matter how much she tries not to imagine her hands on him, she does. She keeps imagining touching him, she keeps remembering how he touched her, and she feels so sick that she can't even try and talk to him.

She's scared, scared that if she breaks his bad mood that he might be inclined to do something she doesn't like.

No matter how much she thinks that maybe he's right, that maybe she's supposed to want this, she just can't.

There might be something wrong with her.

————————————————————

They stop moving, and she peers out of the tinted windows in an attempt at seeing where they are. She sees nothing but blurred shapes. The door opens, light pours inside the darkened space, before her father gets up, and steps outside. She follows, has to walk fast to keep up with him, because it seems like he's on a mission.

It only takes her a moment to realize where they are; a police station. She tilts her head at the place, at the cops gathered at its entrance, talking away. She stays close to her father, throwing a hand in his coat so that she can at least feel protected.

She knows she shouldn't be scared of the police but she's always been taught stranger danger. 

They walk up the stairs, into the building, and she clenches her father's coat when she hears screaming. There's a distinct ringing sound, like something hitting metal, and she can only imagine it's a bad guy banging on jail cell bars. 

She's scared.

"Hargreeves," A voice comes from behind a front desk, a man raises from his chair, and he walks around to greet them. "We've been expecting you, right this way." Her father nods and pushes her hands away from him.

"Stay." He instructs, gesturing at a line of wooden chairs. She nods, goes to sit, and watches him leave. She hears another set of screams and all she can do is throw a hand over her ears.

The front door slams open, a few cops are dragging in a criminal bend on resisting. She clenches her eyes shut, hopes and prays her father will be done soon.

She stays like that, never stopping, afraid of every little noise. She stays like that for what seems like hours, but she knows only a few minutes have passed. A hand touches hers, and she jumps so far back that she bangs her head off the wall. She hisses in pain, rubbing her head, as her father throws her a disinterested look.

"Let's go."

She stands, rushes to be by his side, she just wants to go home. They walk outside, and her father makes a terrible frown.

"If only your siblings were half as behaved as you are." He said, walking down the stairs. "Drinking, partying, drugs? Where do they draw the line?" He reaches the final step, while she trailed behind.

"They are acting like children." He said, really only whispered it like an unconscious thought.

"They are children." She whispers, trying to help him understand, although she's sure she's actually making things worse.

He walks a few more steps and stops. "I don't need children," he complains, "I need soldiers who aren't disobedient brats."

She tries to block out his hateful words.

"They are trying."

"They are trying my patience." He turns his gaze on her, and she shrinks from his glare. "It's possible, though, I suppose that I could be expecting too much," he whispers so softly that she barely hears it, "it's after all, only human nature, isn't it?" he pauses, looks like he's contemplating something before he speaks, "we are just creatures of habits." In one clean movement, he places a hand on her cheek and presses his lips against hers.

Right there, right there in the police department's parking lot, right there where she can feel the gazes of people judging. She shuts her eyes, tries not to face the fact that people are watching.

She hears a sound, a flash, and her heart drops. She knows that sound. She opens her eyes, and she sees what she feared; a camera pointing right at them. A young woman stands behind the camera, holding it with carefully steady hands, smirking as if she had just gotten the best scoop.

Her father doesn't even flinch, he just holds her hand and pulls her toward the limousine while her heart thumps so hard that's she's sure it's going to shut down.

"Why would you-you do that?" She stutters as he pulls her inside the limousine, shutting the door behind her. She's so scared, terrified of where that photo is going to go.

He pulls her to sit beside him, and he smiles. He has some sort of grin on his face and it scares her. 

Why isn't he afraid? 

She shakes, trembling against his side, as he tilts his head to give her another kiss. She presses a hand against his chest, hating everything about this, but she keeps trying to tell herself that she's supposed to want this. It isn't working, she can't trick herself into liking something she doesn't. 

The limo starts moving, and she braces herself against him to prevent herself from sliding backward from the sudden movement. His lips leave hers and he goes to kiss her nose before pulling back. He lets a hand play with her hair.

"I'll let you know a secret," He whispers, "I’ve thrown dice,” he lets a hand wander to her waist. “I’m awaiting the moment I can see if they were the right ones to throw."

She feels like some part of her finds it his words so intriguing, but she doesn’t really understand them. She feels like he’s using really fancy words just to say that he’s made a move and hoping it pays off? Or maybe she’s wrong. It could mean something completely different. She doesn’t have the courage to ask him to explain.

————————————————————

Her mother smiles at them while opening the door and welcoming them back. She tries to smile back but knows it's a poorly sad smile. Her mother throws her a concerned look but doesn't ask what's wrong, she instead switches her attention over to take her father's coat.

She sighs, feels like just sleeping, but her mother gestures to the kitchen where she sees her siblings sitting down for supper.

"Dinner is ready," Her mother whispers, before turning to return to the kitchen. 

Her father pushes on her shoulder, lightly, guiding her into the kitchen before going to his own seat and sitting. She does the same and tries to ignore those strange glances she's getting from her siblings.

Those glances are only small, minimal glares until they stop looking at her and just at each other. They are still mad, upset, and they barely touch their food. They probably can't stand being so close to their father after he just lectured them for something.

She takes a bite of her mash potatoes and watches how they look at each other. In that telepathic way, and she's jealous. She's jealous that she doesn't have that type of bond with any of them.

Just like her siblings are jealous she has a bond with her father.

She swallows her food as she starts to feel her father's eyes on her. She looks down, away, and keeps on eating until she feels her stomach filling up.

————————————————————

She takes her sleeping pills without protest, more than ready to sleep in her own bed and ignore the rest of the world. Her mother gives her a hug, a nice warm hug, before giving her a kiss on the cheek and guiding her to bed. She tucks her in, although it isn't necessary, and her mother gives her a smile, before walking toward the door. She turns the light out, whispering her good nights, before leaving the door ajar as she goes.

She closes her eyes, soaks in the moonlight, and the all familiar feeling of sleeping. She likes the numbness, likes how her brain stops functioning, and she is starting to get used to her body feeling so heavy.

She's fine, she prefers this.

She doesn't dream, nothing happens, no stray sounds, no cold air, nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAVY NON/CON AHEAD!
> 
> Honestly this chapter broke my heart in two and I’m still not okay. 
> 
> Also contains self centered people, being self centered while making everything worse.

Five is avoiding her which makes her more upset than anything. They are walking to breakfast, it isn't like he's usually up her backside, but he never completely avoids her. 

He's lagging behind by a good six feet and every time she slows down he does. too. He won't let her get near him, and it's breaking her heart. Has he finally realized that she's filthy? Is that why he doesn't want to be near her?

Is the air that surrounds her toxic?

She looks down and tries to stop her heart from dying inside of her. What did her father tell him? What did he say that was so terrible that her brother doesn't even want to be around her now?

She didn't think he'd break so easily. It makes her scared, terrified of what her father did to make him like this. He's never looking at her when she looks back at him, and she knows that's because he's actively avoiding her.

She feels as if her heart might burst in her chest from all of the emotions flowing through; sadness, betrayal, and fear.

"If you keep frowning like that it'll stick," Klaus said grabbing her cheeks, forcing her to make a painful smile. "And, personal opinion here- you look much better with a smile." He laughs, lets go, and gives her a playful push.

She smiles back.

————————————————————

Five refuses to look at her, even over breakfast, and all she can do is stare at him. She watches as he eats, watches as he tries so hard not to acknowledge her staring.

He almost looks like he is actually scared, like the reason he won't look at her is that he's afraid of something.

Five is never afraid.

Five is so overconfident that nobody can ever convince him that feeling fear or doubt is normal.

She can say with complete certainty that this is the first time she's ever seen him like this.

She looks away and cuts her eggs, the yoke bleeds down her plate, and she frowns.

————————————————————

People are standing outside of their house, pointing, and whispering amongst themselves. She can only imagine they are here because they saw that picture.

What do they think they saw?

What do they think they know?

She doesn't know, can't hear a thing through the window, but she longs to know what conclusion the public came to.

She wishes, hopes, they just assumed that it was a familial kiss. She knows that's probably not the case, considering how many of them are out there, but she can still hope.

"What do you think?" It startles her, how her father could just creep up on her without her realizing a thing.

She shrugs, keeps looking at those people who have now drawn their attention to the window. They are looking, staring, and she feels her face turning red. He puts a hand on her shoulder and pulls her away from the window.

"Their presence shouldn't be a concern. They will tired and leave eventually."   
He said, lacing his hand in hers, and using his opposite his hand to press his hand against her cheek, using it to tilt her head so that he can kiss her.

Her heart drops, she feels as if those people can still see, as if they judging, taking more pictures, and she just wants to cry. Someone is looking at her, their gaze burns her skin, and her father leans back and gives her such a heartfelt smile.

She tilts her head, sees Allison staring, her eyes wide, and a hand hovers over her chest. She looks so shocked, disgusted, and confused. She opens her mouth, opens it to say something, but all she hears is her father's words.

"I love you," Her father said it sweetly, and loud, so loud that Allison heard and immediately shut her mouth. She backs away, her eyes glint with something she'd only say was envy. 

Her heart is being pulled in two.

She's yearned for so many years to hear him say those words but she never wanted this kind of love from him. She stills, just watches as Allison runs away, and she wants to run after her.

She wants to tell her sister that this isn't what she wants.

She needs to tell her sister that her father is lying, he doesn't love her like she thinks he does.

She has to tell her, right now why she shouldn't be jealous of her.

Her father pulls gently on her hand, a smile on his lips, telling her without words to follow him.

She does, slowly her feet decide to work, and she follows. She wishes she could tell her sister that she hates this. That she has no interest in receiving his affection anymore. She wishes she could go find Allison and explain.

————————————————————

She hates this room, his room. She longed to be in it for so long but now it house's so many memories she'd rather forget. She wishes she could, but her mind won't let her forget anything.

She stands, wraps her arms around herself, although she's more than aware that this does nothing to protect her. He presses a hand on hers, rubs it up her arm, easily breaking her defenses. He presses her against him when he kisses her.

She tries to lean into the kiss, tries to press her lips against his. She is supposed to, right? His grip is tight, and she gets pressed against him so hard that it hurts, but she just presses her lips harder against his.

Her breakfast rolls in her stomach, it's telling her that she's disgusted at her own actions. She doesn't understand. 

why can't she just like this like she's supposed to? 

He leans back and lets one of his hands wander underneath her shirt. He plays with it, before pushing it up, and she lets him remove it. Blush covers her skin, it's embarrassing to be looked at like this, but she allows it.

She's supposed to...at least she keeps telling herself this.

He pushes, leads her to the bed, and she lays down like he wants her too. She feels the dread making a hole in her stomach. She feels it building up each time he peppers a set of kisses across her chest.

She tries to keep her hands to her side, she tries not to fight him.

He presses a hand between her legs, rubs her sensitive area for a minute before spreading her legs apart. She clenches the blankets beside her, and she just wants to tell him 'no' or 'stop'.

She doesn't make a sound.

He rubs her privates, making her feel that funny feeling, that one she's sure is meant to feel good, but right now it just scares her. It scares her because he's making her feel these new feelings, these feelings that she knows he shouldn't be making her feel. No matter how much she hates it the feeling keeps creeping up inside of her, making her feel strangely good even though she knows it should be making her feel sick.

It feels wrong.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She asks softly, so softly that maybe he could just think he was hearing things. He lets his hand rest on her thigh, and he sits up to look at her.

"What do you mean?" He asks, seemly perplexed at her question.

"I don't want this," she whispers turning her eyes sight away from him and instead focusing on the ceiling, "But I'm supposed to...right?" He doesn't answer for a moment, instead letting his hand return to his previous movements.

She throws a hand in his coat, for a moment hating that she is the only one vulnerable. "That isn't necessarily true," he said, as he is beginning to remove her underwear. "I won't tell you how to feel, but it'll hurt less if you wanted it." He said, giving her chills, and she stills as he removes her underwear. He drags it down her legs and lets it fall messily on his floor.

What will hurt less?

He prods her, not just touching her outsides, but he lets his fingers dip into her warm interior. She's afraid, not just afraid, downright horrified. She pushes, hard, but he doesn't budge an inch.

It doesn't hurt, not like she imagined it would, but it feels uncomfortable. He rubs, moves his fingers methodically inside of her, and she is frozen. She's terrified because she knows, at least she thinks she knows why he is doing this to her.

He's preparing her, isn't he? So that he can stick himself inside of her? She pushes harder, feels him slide his hips in between her legs so that she can't close them, and all she wants to do is melt into the floor and disappear.

He stops, stills for a moment, and reaches over for a bottle on his nightstand, before pouring the substance on his fingers. It looks like oil. She is so scared, so scared that he's really thinking of putting himself inside of her.

He can't.

She'd be torn.

She's too little.

He can't do this.

"No!" Her voice comes out full of cracks from her fear. He ignores her and simply prods her again, this time adding a second finger.

It burns, she's feeling that pain, the pain she imagined he'd give her. She doesn't just push, she tries to claw at him, and she kicks her legs. She screams, makes a terrible blood-curdling sound of displeasure.

He doesn't stop.

She kicks against the blankets, tries to get him to stop, but all she's really doing is moving his fingers inside of her. It hurts, each time he goes deeper inside, and she stops fighting realizing she's making it hurt.

She takes deep breaths as her lungs ache from her screaming. Her throat is burnt, still so raw from her throwing up, and she hates that each time she tries to protest she just causes herself more pain. She looks at the ceiling as she feels him gently massaging her insides. Tears roll down her face, and all she can do is sob as he kisses her chest. 

"See?" He said, whispers to her, as terrible sobs wrack her fragile body.

"Please stop!"

He shakes his head.

"Please don't do this."

He presses another finger inside of her, and it hurts so much that she lets another scream out. It leaves her throat without her permission and echos in her ears.

It hurts, burns so much that she's sure she's bleeding and he's already ruined her. There's no way she could actually take him, there's no way he'd actually fit inside of her. He has to see now, has to see that he'd break her.

"I'll do anything else," she sobs against him. "Please don't..."

He touches her softly, but it still feels like each movement he makes is cutting her up inside. They're cutting up her soft flesh, making her forever undesirable to anyone else.

No one will ever want her after he ruins her.

"You...you said we didn't have to rush." She clenches her eyes when his fingers curl inside of her. She bites her lips and feels that skin threatening to bleed.

"That's true." He whispers, removing his fingers, for a moment relief fills her before he pushes them back inside. Her whole body freezes as pain shoots up her spine. He does this movement, again and again, each time hurting less, but still forcing her to freeze, and take deep breaths to try and balance out the pain she's receiving.

"Stop..." she says throwing a hand around his arm and digging her nails in his flesh. He inhales, closes his eyes for a moment, but allows her to do this. She changes her path, deciding if she can't deter him with pain, she'll try pleasure.

She pushes her hand against him, against his warm rod bulging against his pants, and she rubs in circles. "I'll...make you feel good if you stop." She begs, pleads with him to stop touching her like this. 

She can touch him, she can rub his rod, she can handle that. But she can't handle this, she can't handle his fingers inside of her, and she will definitely break if he tries to put this rod inside.

He hisses, actually stills his movements, and for a minute stares at her. She looks up, hoping her puppy eyes are good enough for him to listen to her plea. He looks at her with such a look of indifference that she's sure he's not even considering her offer.

He removes his fingers from her, slowly, and carefully, before taking that hand to unzip his pants. She sighs, relief finally falling over her, and her heart is feeling so much better now that she knows he isn't going to stick that rod inside. 

She's going to be alright.

He pulls down his pants, then his boxers, and they pile together at his knees. She lets her hand grasp him, and she rubs like he showed her, but he bats her hand away. She drops her hand, feeling confusion and fear fill her again.

Then he presses against her, presses the head right against her slits, and she feels him gently easing it inside. 

She doesn't just panic, she starts to fight like her life depends on it. He's going to force his rod inside of her. He's actually doing this, actually going to tear her apart.

She kicks her legs and feels the pain shoot up her body, but she doesn't stop. Her hands push everywhere they can, and eventually they land on his face, where she digs her nails in and drags. He winces, makes a noise of pain, but he continues pushing inside of her.

She feels liquid drop on her face before she realizes that she's made him bleed. Blood profusely drips out of four long, and deep gashes on his cheek. He scowls so deeply that she's sure she's just dug her own grave. His hand raises, and she clenches her eyes, he's going to beat her.

She waits, waits for it to come across her face, but it doesn't. She opens her eyes, confused, and he just stares at her, before he pushes again completely engulfing himself inside of her. 

She clenches against him, inside of her, and she shakes from the sudden pain, she can't get a hold of herself, the pain is becoming the only thing she can think of, and then she screams, lets out the most gut-wrenching scream she's ever heard, as all she can think is that she's going to die.

The lights burst, glass shatters against the floor, and they are thrown in darkness. She clenches her eyes shut, and hides underneath him, scared of whatever did that. She still feels him inside, twitching against her, and causing her so much pain. 

Around her she can hear things being broken. Glass shatters against hard surfaces, the bed shakes, and groans. She hears other sounds, creaking, scratching, and popping, but she keeps her eyes shut. 

He pulls out of her, slides out of her warmth, it hurts so much, but the room goes silent. She finally opens her eyes, her vision blurred for a moment due to her tears, but the minimal sunlight pouring inside the room is enough to let her see what a disaster it is. Books, paper, glass, and a mixture of broken wood lay on the floor, and she's scared.

She doesn't understand...what did that?

He doesn't look bothered at the chaos of the room, almost looks like he expected that to happen, and he gives a eire grin, a smirk, before dropping it as if it had never happened. He lets a frown crawl across his lips, as he changes his attention to her, and he looks at her so softly that it hurts.

She shivers, feels her privates clench around nothing making her feel burning sensations of pain. She places one hand over her privates, providing it poor protection. She wraps her other hand around his back, and sobs into his chest. "Please no more!" She wails, clenching him, and trying so hard to make him understand.

"Shh," he shushes her, pulling her upright and throwing his hands around her to embrace her. "It's going to be alright, you're fine." He whispers the sweet words in her ear.

"Promise you- you won't do it again," she sobs, hopes her words came out as she imagined them in her mind. He pulls her in closer, rubs a hand in comforting motions on her back.

"I promise..." she pushes her head into his chest as she lets out all of her tears.

"It hurt..." she bawls against him, and he nods, rubbing his hands softly against her skin. Her privates ache, and they feel strangely moist, she feels so disgusting. Somehow she feels like it's begging her to touch it, but she refuses because she's afraid of what might happen.

His rod is still out, but he pays it no mind as he comforts her. "You did great sweetie," He praises her, but she just feels sick, so sick because in all of her life she's never once heard him call anyone sweetie. He never used pet names, never understood the sentimental appeal behind such things, so she knows that this is fake.

He isn't really soft like this.

Yet, even though she knows he's lying through his teeth, and only saying these things to make her feel better, she can't help but feel her heart melting at the use of that word. She hates it, hates how weak her heart is.

"I didn't- I didn't want that." Her voice comes out cracked and almost three different pitches as she sobs. He shushes her, moving a hand to pat her head.

"Everything is alright now," He coos giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.

She tries to catch her breath, her heart starts to settle in her chest, and he just keeps holding on to her, trying to make her feel better. Her sobs stop, and she just pushes her face harder against his chest as she takes deep, painful breaths.

She's okay.

She's fine.

It's over.

She pulls back, only to see that his cheek is completely covered in blood. The warm substance drips down his face and rolls down his neck, not to mention that his suit is starting to get soaked in the stuff. She stills, so afraid that she's hurt him, that she's hurt him bad.

"I'm fine." He said reading her mind, but he's not fine, he's bleeding so much.

"I'm sorry!" She starts sobbing all over again, and he gives her a kiss. "Please forgive me." She's whispers against his lips, so afraid that he's going to be mad at her, that he's going to hit her or lock her away.

"Ive already forgiven you." He presses his forehead against hers and just stares into her eyes as her sobs quiet down. She stares back, feeling her stomach rolling around, and she clenches her hand in his shirt.

The door opens.

She freezes.

"Oh dear, what a mess!" Her mother exclaims as she looks at the room. She walks inside, towards them, easily maneuvering through the chaos.

She has to see, she has to know what's going on. Her shirt is off, her hand protecting her privates, and his rod is out. Her mother has to know what's happening.

Her mother doesn't even give a fake smile, she just frowns, picking up her shirt, and underwear off the floor before handing them to her.

"Please get dressed sweetie, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold," she sounds normal.

She puts on her shirt, as her mother places a hand on her father's face, looking at his bleeding wounds. She stands and puts on her underwear, and she notices a little bit of blood when she pulls her hand away. She flinches, scared for a moment, but telling herself just to take a deep breath.

She's fine.

He didn't actually tear her.

She's perfectly fine.

It's probably normal to bleed.

Her father bats her mother's hand away, uninterested in her babying ways. He stands, puts himself away, and presses his hand against his cheek, trying to stop the bleeding. 

"Seven," he said, calling for her to follow. 

She feels so bad, for making him bleed, for hurting him. She hopes he really isn't mad.

She is afraid of him when he's angry.

————————————————————

"What happened to you?" Luther asks their father, glaring at her as if he already blames her. She looks past her brother, to see that the house was in general disarray. A vase lay broken in the grand hall, and a few pictures fell off the wall.

"Nothing," Her father waves off his concern. "She had another 'episode' but it's nothing to get upset about." He said, turning his course to the infirmary, with her mother following behind.

She stays put, feeling a hand touch her shoulder before it lands on her cheek and she freezes. Klaus looks at her, really looks at her, and he tilts his head. 

"It was just a little earthquake," he said rubbing her cheeks. "Why were you crying?" He asks, and she wants to tell him, she wants him to give her a comforting embrace while she sobs into his chest. She opens her mouth, goes to confess, only to have his hand ripped off of her by Five.

She stares, shocked by the sight, and her mouth clamps shut.

"What's your problem?" Klaus rips his hand out of Five's grasp.

"Leave it." Five demands, crossing his arms across his chest as Klaus gives him a dirty glare.

"Excuse me? What gives you the-"

"Leave it," Five repeats, snarls at Klaus, and he just looks at Five like he's something to fear. He turns, mumbles underneath his breath, before stomping off.

Five sighs, what sounds like a breath of relief before walking away too. He walks, up the stairs, and leaves, it almost seems like he's following Klaus. 

Luther stands there, gives her this weird look, one she can't even describe and she can't help that she starts to cry. She lets sobs leave her lips, as she collapses into the hard wooden floor. 

She just wants a hug.

She just wants someone to tell her she's going to be fine.

She just needs someone to turn to.

She sobs, each one of her breaths burns her throat, and she drags her hands over her face again and again. Luther grasps her hands, forcing them to still, as he pulls them down to be at her side.

"What's wrong? You can talk to me," He moves his hands to wrap around her and he pulls her in for a tight hug. "Please let me in, I'll listen to you." He whispers, and she sobs harder.

"Father...touched me." He stops hugging her and pushes her away, roughly, and she feels her arm ache when he does.

He looks disgusted, and...angry.

"What's wrong with you?" His voice laced with disgust and she tries to touch him but he backs away. 

"Father made me do things." She sobs and he stands, backs away from her like she's something vile. 

"You are really are ill aren't you? You don't know what you're talking about." She tries to stand but her knees are so week that she just falls.

"I'm telling the truth," her voice is hoarse from her screaming. "Please...Luther," she pleads with him to believe her.

He looks like he's about to throw up, he takes another step back as he swallows. She reaches a hand out, tries to grasp his pants.

"You make me sick!"

She drops her hand, tears flowing down her face, as her breakfast comes up her throat. She throws a hand over her mouth and clenches her eyes to prevent herself from throwing up.

He doesn't try and comfort her, he just looks at her like she's the most revolting thing he's ever set his eyes on.

She makes him sick.

"I'm sorry," she sobs, scoots away from him until she hits a wall. She throws her head in her knees and as she drowns in her own disgust. She hears him walk away, and all she does is sit there like that, knowing she's just an idiot.

Luther would never believe her.

She makes him sick.

She throws her head back, pounding it against the wall, she hates herself. Something soft cushions her head, and it only takes her a moment to see that Ben has put his hand between her head and the wall.

"Please don't do that." He whispers, gives her a nice smile.

She panics, and crawls away from him, as he just stares at her. "Stay away from me! I'll make you sick!" He chuckles, gives her a soft smile as he walks towards her.

"Luther has his priorities mixed up," She crawls away until she bumps into another wall and he catches her hand, stopping any further escape. "Trust me you aren't going to make me sick." He said, whispers it, as he pulls her into his embrace.

"You're going to be fine."

She cries, sobs into him, tainting him with her filth.

"I'm here if you want to talk." 

She nods, she wants to talk, she just needs someone to believe her.

————————————————————

Her head rests in his lap as he rubs comforting circles on her head. He doesn't stop her, just lets her ramble on and on about what happened.

He nods, sometimes makes noises of agreement, and she just keeps on talking. He doesn't tell her that she's disgusting when she describes how her father touched her. He doesn't tell her she makes him sick when she tells how she was forced to touch him.

He just listens.

His hand does flinch as she tells him how much it hurt when her father went inside of her. His hand returns to its movements afterward and he just nods.

She has nothing left to say, she's let it all out, and she feels so much better. 

He looks at her, so sadly, then away as he speaks. "I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be alright," he swallows, looking at the opposite wall as if he couldn't bear the thought of looking at her. "I can't protect you, I can't make it all better, but I wish I could," he bites his lips. "I'm so sorry."

She throws her arm over eyes as she starts to cry again. "I know," she says, barely gets out through her rough voice. "I'm not that naive," she feels his hand start rubbing circles again.

"All I wanted was someone to believe me." She takes her arm off her eyes, her vision blurs, but she can see his sad smile.

"I'm so sorry," he says again, and she just shakes her head.

"Thank you."

A flash of white crosses her vision and something lands on her stomach. She sits up only to see two of anxiety pills on her lap.

She tilts her head over, scared to see her father, his face bandaged up, and he gives her a menacing frown.

"Take them." He demands, and she can feel Ben shrink beside her.

He is afraid, but she doesn't blame him.

She throws the pills in her mouth, downs them although they scratch her throat. Her father's glare doesn't lessen, and she realizes he's glaring at Ben.

"Number Six, I believe it's necessary that we have a discussion." 

Ben jumps, stands up so fast that she imagines his head spins, and he follows behind their father.

She watches them go, watches them go as her heartaches. Her heart tells her that she's just accidentally killed her brother but she tries to have positive thoughts.

————————————————————

Ben doesn't come back, nor does her father. She sits at the table, stares at their empty chairs as her mother passes out dinner.

She's so afraid.

She's so worried that her father is punishing Ben because she spoke up. 

Ben is getting punished because of her.

Guilt riddles her body, making her unable to stomach anything, and causing her to barely be able to drink her water without spilling it everywhere. Her privates hurt, they ache and burn as she sits. She trembles from the pain, and the fear building up in her chest.

It's all her fault.

This is all her fault.

Luther casts her looks of disgust, and blame. Allison, when she does look, just throws her the most jealous looks.Klaus, and Diego throw her concerned glances, and Five refuses to look at her.

She keeps her head down and lets her heartstrings snap in half as she hates how weak she is.

Everything is her fault.

If she just kept her mouth shut, she wouldn't be in so much pain.

————————————————————

Even as she's getting ready for bed, Ben doesn't return.

Her mother smiles, a terribly fake smile, as she drops her sleeping pills in her palm. "Goodnight," her mother kisses her head but doesn't stick around, apparently having more important things to do.

She turns off her light, leaves her door ajar, and sits in bed. Her bottom aches, her stomach churns, and all she feels is sharp pain riddling her broken body. She waits, tries to stay still through her pain, and holds the pills in her palm as everyone goes to sleep. 

She listens to grasshoppers, she listens to their chirping, and she watches the moonlit demons dance across her room. She watches them dance, she watches them speak, she tries to focus on them instead of her insides dying. 

She stays like that, until her eyes naturally droop, and she feels tired.

Ben isn't back.

It's all her fault.

She takes her pills, swallows them down with water, before laying down. She takes a few deep breaths, telling herself Ben is fine, but she can't really believe that.

As she falls asleep, she feels tears running down her face, making her cheeks feel like ice, as her insides burn like a out of control furnace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be way bigger but I decided to split it in half because there can only be so much heartache in one chapter.

She awakes to what sounds like scratching. It's weird, the sound crawls into her ears, and then she hears ripping. She rubs her knees together, tries to provide herself warmth, but all she feels is pain.

She opens her eyes, tries to roll over only to be greeted with a knife being stabbed into a pillow. She jolts upright, jumps so far away that she falls straight on the hardwood floor and for a split second all she feels is pure pain radiating from her back.

Moonlight, or maybe just the early sun pours in her room, she can't tell. It's at that hour again when there doesn't seem to be anything in the sky. She's up early, should be sleeping for another hour or so, and it's really apparent with how hard she has to try to keep her eyes open.

A pair of eyes look over from on top of the bed, and then a small grin crawls across their face. Klaus just starts laughing, he throws a hand over his mouth, mumbles an apology but it doesn't feel genuine when he's laughing so hard.

"Are you okay?" He asks, he holds a hand down to her, offering to help her up. She takes it and uses him to get back on the bed because her body feels so weak. She sits gingerly on her bottom and watches as he continues slicing a small hole in the pillow.

One that isn't hers, and she's sure isn't his. She tilts her head, looks at it, looks back to him, and opens her mouth.

"Don't you start," he said, not even allowing a word to leave her mouth. "Despite what you might think this is a great method of...coping. It's like-" he pulls the knife out the pillow and uses it to gesture as he talks, which is alarming- "great to release stress," he stabs the knife back into the pillow.

"Um," she says, tries to say more but he again cuts her off.

"Never mind the small stuff," he leans closer to her "what's Five hiding?" He questions and his eyes glints with something.

"Nothing," she mumbles, she's completely lost the will to fight, to confess. She will not get anyone else in trouble, she refuses, because now it's not just about her. She's gotten Ben in trouble, and she will not repeat her mistake.

Is he back yet?

"Really?"He wiggles his eyebrows and gives what amounts to a grin. "He sure sounded like he was hiding something." He makes a clicking noise in his mouth, and she leans back some, trying to make distance between them, but he just leans in closer. "If I had to bet I'd say that you know what that is."

She shakes her head.

"Okay fine, how about a secret for a secret?" He leans back, finally allowing her room to breathe. "Pillows along with let's say...teddy bears make great places to hide drugs." He grabs the pillow, takes the knife out, and presses his hand into the cotton interior. "See? It's going to be very useful."

She watches in wonder, he's so...carefree and upbeat all the time. It hurts in the weird ways, she knows she should be happy that he's so happy, but she knows that he's only able to be this carefree because he's accepted his life for what it is. 

He did a long time ago.

"Hello?" He snaps his fingers in front of her face. "Now tell me his," he said placing a hand on hers. "You know you want to, he's needed a reality check for a long time." He grins, rubs circles in her hand, and she just feels the need to cry.

She doesn't.

She can't.

"It's my secret." 

He stills, stares, and frowns.

"Boring!" He groans, taking his hand off hers. 

Why? Is it because she's ordinary? Is it just because no secret she has could ever be something...big? 

He turns, goes to get off the bed, and she throws a hand around his shoulder. He stills looks back at her and tilts his head.

"Klaus?" 

"Yes?"

"Can you keep a secret?" She whispers, clenches her hand in his shirt.

"Sure? Well, I mean most of the time."

She sighs, and looks at him, stares him right in the eyes before opening her mouth.

She's going to repeat her mistake.

Her heart hurts, knowing that she could be the reason that someone gets hurt again.

She wonders if she's being selfish right now. No, she knows she is, but she thinks that maybe for once in her life she's allowed to be.

————————————————————

She tells him everything, although she knows it's selfish to throw so much on him.

She doesn't care about solitary anymore, and definitely isn't worried about being laughed at by him. She's more worried about how her words affect those around her but...she's still acting so selfishly.

He walks circles in her room, she watches him, she listens to him mumbling underneath his breath, and she understands the feeling. The hopelessness, and if she wasn't in so much pain each time she moved she'd join him.

"I don't," he starts but stops, and she just nods.

"Why?" He says, turns to her, and stares. "There has to be more right? Why did he pick you?"

She shrugs.

He brings his hand up to his mouth and begins chewing on his nails, an action so unconscious that she's sure he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

She sighs, pulls up her knees to her chest, and uses them to prop her head up. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, and he turns his head to her and furrows his eyebrows.

"Could you lose that phrase from your vocabulary? Yes? Thanks." He smiles, sits down beside her, and just glows.

"We'll figure this out."

"And then?" She mumbles lowering her gaze.

"Then?" He almost asked like he didn't understand, his glow starts leaving his body and her heart sinks.

She doesn't have the right to ask for help.

Nobody has ever helped Klaus.

Nobody has ever helped Ben.

Nobody has ever helped anyone.

They all just learn to accept it.

She needs to too.

Does she have the right to sit here and ask for his help? Does she have the right to beg anyone to help her escape from her father when...they've been going through the same things for years?

Sure, maybe it's never been...sexual abuse-at least as far as she knows but her siblings have all experienced an equal share of mental, emotional, and physical abuse.

Although most of the time she likes to pretend she doesn't see it.

Nothing is ever done, there's nothing anyone can do because they're just children, and unfortunately, they just don't have a strong enough will. Their father controls their life, their decisions, and keeps them in check.

He's too powerful to fight because he knows what he's doing.

she should have never said anything because all she's doing is causing unnecessary pain. Five is right.

Just because her abuse is sexual doesn't mean it's worst than theirs.

She is selfish.

So selfish, that she just wants to cry and drown herself in her own shame.

Klaus stays silent.

————————————————————

Correction, Klaus is not staying silent.

She pulls on his hand, hard, and tries to stop him from knocking on Diego's door.

"Let go!" He yells, pushes her, and tries to stop her protests.

"Don't tell him!" She says, tries to reason with her brother, but he just shoves her hard enough to break her grasp on his arm.

"I'm doing this for you!" He shouts as he slams the door open, and awakens a sleeping Diego, who's first response is to throw a knife.

Klaus ducks, like he expected it, like he had woken Diego out of deep sleep so often that he knew what to expect. The knife gets embedded in the doorway, just above Klaus's head, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness," Klaus exclaims standing up, "you could have ruined my sexy face." He walks toward Diego, whose lips have formed a harden frown.

"Go away," he says, relaxes, and just looks at them like the annoyances they are. She grasps Klaus's hand, yanks, tries to stop his advances but she can't. He sits on Diego's bed, gives him a nice big smile like he isn't about to spill the most disgusting and in-turn most dangerous secrets she has.

He opens his mouth and she clasps her hand over his mouth. He makes noises of displeasure.

"Klaus said you'd love to tell me why father was so mad at you guys the other day." She takes a deep breath when she finishes, her words all merging together, and she's sure half of them weren't audible.

Diego raises his eyebrows, stares at them for a moment, it doesn't look like he's buying what she's selling but he relents.

"Well, you know dad, god's gift to humanity and all that. Heaven forbid we go to a party or two," he said, his eyes narrowing at them as if he suspects something. Klaus licks her palm, it feels gross and triggers a slew of disgusting memories that forces her to rip her hand away. She holds it as if he burned her.

"Dad is a rapist," Klaus said so serious that Diego's face just goes blank. The room falls into a void of silence.

She hates that word, despises it with a passion. Her father...isn't, she doesn't want her father to be one of those people, and yet she...she is his victim right? The people who are raped, the people who are forced into...sex are considered victims right?

She doesn't want to think anymore.

Her father is a good man, struggles with simple affection and parenthood but he would never. But he has, he has to her, and yet she still can't face it.

She wishes, hopes so much that there's just some bigger picture she doesn't see but she knows that she's just delusional.

He did it because he's convinced himself that she wants him. No, he said she doesn't have to like it. He's doing it because...she doesn't know, has no idea really. Is it just because he can? Because she spent so long trying to get close to him? Is it a punishment? Does he have some unseen motive? She isn't sure.

He hasn't really given her a true explanation and knowing him, she doubts he will.

"What?" Diego almost stuttered even though it was only a single word. Klaus just makes some terrible sex gesture that makes her want to barf. She turns her gaze away and waits a moment before looking back. "That doesn't help, at all," Diego said, rubbing a hand over his face, and just giving Klaus the most disbelieving look.

She opens her mouth, wants to say something, but she shuts it. She just can't. She feels like she's about to throw up.

She takes a step back, nobody says a thing, so she takes another, and another before she just turns around and runs. She can't listen to Klaus explain it, she can't listen to him in his overly dramatic way explain what happened to her. She'd throw up if she had to see another one of his lewd gestures.

Her stomach has grown big butterflies that keep fluttering their wings inside, making it hurt so bad that she holds a hand over it.

She keeps running although she doesn't know where she's going. She just has to get away, she just needs some air to breathe. It hurts, each time she puts one foot in front of the other, her insides feel like they're on fire.

She closes her eyes, counts to ten, and opens them before she turns a corner. She only runs for another minute before she bumps into her father, which makes her knees feel like jelly.

She needs to get it together, if she wasn't so busy staring at the ground she wouldn't have cursed herself like this. She slowly looks up, can't help that her chest hurts seeing his eyes so hard set on her, glaring at her, and her hands shake without her permission.

Why is he even up? Did an Umbrella Academy mission pop up? Did he come to get them up for extra training? 

She takes a step back, a wobbly step back, and she holds her hands close to her body. He grabs her left wrist, pulls her back, and bares his teeth at her as if they were fangs.

"No running!" He squeezes her wrist harder and she hisses, makes a noise of displeasure, and tears start to prick her eyes. "You are acting like a child."

"Sorry!"

He narrows his eyes, his mouth stays in a thin line. 

"I'm so sorry!" She said so hoarsely, barely getting the words out through her overused throat. "Please forgive me..." the words crackle off at the end as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

His cheek is covered up, but she still knows what's underneath and it's scary. To know that he could really be angry for that, he could punish her for that...and he should. She hurt him, she did something so terrible that guilt still haunts her deeply.

He increases his pressure on her wrist, and she's sure he's about to break it. She sobs, terrible noises leave her throat, but they are quiet. Her throat so burnt and overused that she can't manage anything louder than a whisper.

"Stop your whining, it's disgusting." He lets go, she holds her wrist, and it pulsates. He walks past her, right by her without another word, and she feels relief flood her body.

She starts walking, she shakes, trembles even though he's not near her anymore. Everything still hurts, her wrist is starting to bruise, so she tugs her sleeves down further.

Ben...

She stops, her brother's name appearing in her thoughts, and she turns to look at her father's back. Where's Ben? Where is he? What did he do to him? She takes another step away from her father.

Ben...

She stops and turns around, her body doesn't want to do what she wants. She takes a step towards her father...she wants to know where Ben is. She walks, catches up with her father who upon hearing her footsteps stop. She grasps his hand, it twitches, and he turns to face her with a terribly cold look plastered on his face.

"Ben," she said, the word tumbling out before she could even make a comprehensive sentence. Her father frowns, and it takes her a whole heartbeat to realize what she said.

"Six! Where is six?" She says, tries to correct her mistake.

"That's none of your concern." He said, gripping her hand, softly, rubbing it with his thumb.

All of a sudden something glints in his eyes, and he drops his icy exterior, only a little. "You are fascinating," he said, staring into her soul. "Why do you still seek out my presence? Do you lack survival instincts? Self-preservation?" He raises his hand, she stills, and he pokes her chest. "Is it because you are still listening to this organ? The human heart, weak, tangible, and oh so useless." He raises his hand, rubs it against the bandage on his cheek.

He hums, looks at her like she's just another one of his science projects, and then lets go of her hand. He turns and starts walking again, uninterested in answering her question.

She follows.

She follows because she's listening to that organ in her chest.

She follows because even though everything he just said makes it sound like he's scolding her...she thinks she knows where he's going. To have a 'discussion' with Klaus, and Diego.

He was probably watching, on his fancy old cameras so he knows. He knows that she told, that she made one big mess that he'll have to clean up. She should have never said anything, this is all her fault, she acted so selfishly.

They shouldn't be punished for her mistake.

She grasps his hand again, holds it so gently, and tugs. He doesn't turn around, just stops and stares ahead, down the hallway that leads to her siblings' rooms. She walks around him, goes to stand in front of him.

She stares, he stares back.

She swallows, grasps his suit, stands up on her tippy toes and presses her lips against his. She kisses him.

He freezes.

She pulls back, gives him a set of puppies eyes although she knows he's immune to them. "Please don't...don't hurt them." He looks at her like he's about to beat her.

She understands, she's usually not this disobedient, and it scares her. She's afraid of him, she's barely able to stand in front of him without cowering away in fear.

"Is that it?" She tilts her head to the side, and then she goes to kiss him again. He stops her, presses a hand over her mouth, and shakes his head. "Is that why you're doing this? Because you want to protect them?" He drops the hand from her mouth and he almost seems amused when he speaks.

"Interesting but predictable, just proving my point."

"Please." She said and he rolls his eyes, brings his hands up to her mouth. His fingers prod her pink lips, he rubs them.

"You are a terrible negotiator," he said as he pulls at the side of her lips, opening them up. "You are supposed to tell me what you'll give me in exchange if I do as you ask."

She doesn't have anything. She has nothing at all. She presses her hand against his fingers on her lips, and she squeezes his other hand in her hold.

"I'll leave them alone if you keep me company," he said, rubs her lips one last time before dropping his hand, removing his other hand from her grasp, and he takes a step back.

"It's your choice."

She stares at him, at his cold exterior just screaming indifference. 

She feels sick.

She nods, just nods, can't stomach saying another word. She has to protect them, she has to, even if that means throwing herself in the fire. 

Her father doesn't smile, doesn't frown, just gives her a cold-hearted glare.

"Then get dressed," he said, and turns around walking back from where he came, "and meet me in the living room when you're finished." He instructs and she nods.

She does what he says, she goes to her room takes off her pajamas, puts on her uniform, making sure to pull down the sleeves to hide her bruises. Then she just lets tears roll down her face for a few moments, takes deep breathes to calm herself before patting her eyes.

She walks out of her room, leaves it ajar, and slowly walks across the wooden hallway floors to prevent them from creaking as she goes to Diego's room. She just peeks inside, sees Klaus making a terribly lewd motion that reminds her of when her father made her touch him. It's sickening to watch. 

Diego looks like he's going to throw up.

She steps away and takes another deep breath, trying to gather up her nonexistent courage. She's doing this for them, she's doing this to protect them.

She can do this even if she's afraid, even if she feels broken, even if she's burning inside.

She can do this.

————————————————————

She walks into the living room, light from the fireplace provides a golden glow over everything. Her mother stands by her father, they are discussing something. Her father stops speaking as soon as she enters.

Her mother turns to look at her, a smile on her lips, and a warm vibe exudes from her. It provides a layer of comfort. Her mother walks over to her, runs her finger through her messy hair, smoothing out the knots.

"Did you sleep well?" Her mother acquires and she nods. "That's good."

"Be a good girl," her mother whispers against her, her arms wrapping around her. She makes a noise of agreement, wraps her arms around her mother too, needing this, just wanting this so much. She feels so alone when her mother pulls away. Her mother kisses her forehead, "I'm going to start breakfast," she says whispers against her before she walks away.

She realizes her father is staring, her face flushes red. "What?" She squeaks out through her cracky voice, so embarrassed by his gaze casting judgment upon her.

He shakes his head, "Nothing." He replies tonelessly as he goes to walk past her to the grand hall and she follows, only to realizes he's getting his coat on. They are leaving, going somewhere, her heart drops.

"Where are-" she says, tries to at least through her broken voice, but he cuts her off.

"To retrieve Six, where else would we go?" Her father says, so condescendingly that she just looks down in shame. He pushes the door open, she looks up, watches him go, for a moment just staring as the gears in her mind grind together.

She follows, everything aching, and burning, and telling her she's an idiot.

A kind-hearted idiot.

He's probably right, she lacks self-preservation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darkness my old friend~

She looks out the tinted windows, watching the trees, and buildings pass or at least that's what she's making out of the tinted blurry shapes. She doesn't have anything else to do, there is never anything else to do. 

She stretches her legs, sees her pale skin get goosebumps from the cold air that circulates inside the limousine. She wonders if he'd get angry if she asked why they couldn't put on the warm air. But she doesn't say anything, still unsure if she's allowed to speak.

He's been staring at his hand for a while, which is concerning, to say the least. He just keeps looking at, flexing his fingers, and makes fists. She wonders if she should ask what's wrong, but at the same time she's more than aware that'd mean her survival instincts or whatever aren't working.

"Um..." she starts but stopped because her father immediately turned his gaze on her. His beating hot gaze that made her shrink in size. "Are you okay?" She whispers quietly, and he just drops his hand on his pants.

"I'm fine," He changes his attention to the window she was looking out and stares into its void. She joins him, looking out at that dark void in which you can't be sure what you're seeing.

She wonders how she'll find Ben. Bloodied? Scared? Alone? Whatever it is, whatever she sees, she will have to face the truth that she caused it. That everything that happened to him is all her fault, and she's going to make sure to apologize.

————————————————————

They arrive at their destination, where ever that might be. So she prepares her self to be greeted by a broken-down building and a bloodied up Ben. She needs to prepare herself because although she loves her brother she just can't look at him the same when he's bloodied, mainly because the blood isn't his own. So she tries to tell herself it's just syrup, that substance she doesn't really remember but she knows is sticky and smelly.

She just thinks of blood as a red-tinted syrup that has been infused with a metallic smell.

The door to the limousine opens, her father steps out and then she follows behind.

They are in the residential area, which she wasn't expecting really. How does one perform torture on their kid in an apartment with such thin walls? These aren't even the poor apartments, they look well taken care of and pristine.

Her father walks up to a door, one labeled "Six", knocks twice, and waits. She looks around, notices that there are exactly seven buildings here, and she gets chills. Something about this situation makes the hair on her neck stand up.

She presses a hand into his coat, its more instinctive than anything because she's much more afraid of the big bad world than she is of him. He's her father, he protects her from things she's afraid of...at least he used to.

He looks back at her, might be thinking about telling her off for being so childish, but the door opens to the apartment. He turns back to the door, a small fake smile on his lips.

An older woman appears in the doorway, just starting to grey, and well dressed, very proper for her age. She smiles at them, especially her. "God aren't you the just the cutest thing," the woman says to her forcing a blush to cover her face.

"Mary," her father says, rolling his eyes, and Mary just laughs. "Is he awake?" He asks and Mary moves to the side with a nod.

"He's quite the early bird, and very well behaved." Mary almost seems to be surrounded by floating little flowers, at least that's the image her mind conjures up. She just seems so nice and motherly. "Jon has been enjoying his company as well."

"Good," Her father says, his fake smile just looking all that faker. They are being led to a doorway, warm light crackling out from the room, from a fire presumably. 

Then she hears laughter, warm, fuzzy laughter that she knows is Ben. It's scary, she's sure she's never heard laughter so genuine before but...it's Ben for sure. She's just so confused, this place seems so nice, but wasn't her father going to torture him?

Wasn't Ben getting punished for her mistake? 

She doesn't understand.

Then they get to that room, the laughter so much louder, but for a moment she just stares at her father's back, afraid to look at her brother. Then she looks around him, doesn't want to but she does, and she sees her brother smiling.

Smiling like he's never been happier.

A man, Jon, she assumes is handing him papers, covered with typed up words with lots of corrections on them, made with red ink. She tilts her head, her heart drops in her chest, and for a moment she just feels stupid, dumber than a box of rocks.

She's spent so long just thinking that he's getting punished for something she did. That her father was giving him a vigorous 'discussion' and that thought haunted her mind for so long. Yet, here he is, seemingly enjoying whatever this is.

"They really enjoyed this," Jon said, handing Ben another set of papers, "it isn't deep, it doesn't have to be." He smiles, his hair has already grayed. 

These people seem so nice.

Ben nods, reading over the papers, and sitting in what she considers chaos. Books surround him, papers, and other things alike but Ben just sits there content. Then her father hums, makes a noise to get her brother's attention, and Ben freezes, looks up at them like he's been caught red-handed.

Mary walks inside, walks through the chaos, gives Ben a pat on his head. "It was so nice to have you, sweetheart," she hums, smooths his hair, and then just leans back with such a kind-hearted smile. Jon, her husband she assumes, gives that same kind-hearted smile.

Everything just seems so fake.

Ben stands, looks down on the floor, his warmth turning into a sharp cold. "Thanks," he mutters, walking through the books, before walking right past her father and herself. He doesn't look at them, just walks down the hallway, only stopping to get his shoes on.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Her father says with that same sickening kindness that those people have. 

"Anytime," Jon said, turning around on his spinning chair, he starts writing. Her father turns, she follows, a hand still clenched in his coat, but he pays it no mind. Ben has his shoes on, opens the door for them to walk through before walking through it himself.

He shuts the door behind him, and immediately leans over a fence, one that separates the apartments from each other, and starts to throw up. She freezes, the first thought running through her head is fuck. 

Which isn't a word she would ever use, would never say, has rarely even thought about, but for the moment it just feels so right. She gets her self back together and starts to pat his back as he is emptying the contents of his stomach. It's alarming, she isn't sure she's ever seen him like this.

This is only normal behavior for Klaus, he hugs the toilet so often that it was just one of those Klaus things. It's not normal for anyone else, that's why it seems so much worst. Just like when she was throwing up and her siblings thought the world was ending.

He was just fine.

He was just so happy.

Now what? Why is he throwing up?

He leans against this white picket fence, no doubt painting the opposite side in a slew of disgusting colors, and the noises he's making is making her feel as if she's going to be sick too. She tries to block it out, just rubs his back  
in comforting motions.

Her father stands by, just staring at them, she feels hot, but she tries to not be embarrassed. She isn't sure why her body registers this as an embarrassing situation, she's not even the one throwing up.

Ben stops, he leans his head up, and his eyes just seem so lifeless. He wipes his chin that had a pinkish substance dripping down it.

"I didn't realize you cared that much," he said, his words slurred together as another wave of nausea fell over him, he throws a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes.

"I'm observant," her father said, tilting his head as the limousine purred in front of him. It's still running, waiting for them to get inside. "I make it my business to know my children," Ben drops his hand from his mouth and pushes himself off the fence.

"It is that what you call this?" Ben gestures to the apartments.

"No, this is what you call planning ahead," Her father said almost sounding amused.

Ben scoffs and gives a terribly deep frown. "Did you bring Five here too?" Her father raises an eyebrow before chuckling.

"Of course not, unlike some people his  
fidelity isn't so easily gained." She doesn't think she's ever seen Ben glare so sharply before.

"Let us go unless you're planning on walking." Her father said, opening the limousine door, and gesturing for them to get inside.

They do, Ben moves and she follows behind. She stops, just before she gets in the limousine, a newspaper box catching her eyes. She peers in the glass, only the front page is visible but she sees herself on it kissing her father.

She just keeps looking, but no matter how hard she tries she can't read the headline. Her father pulls on her shoulder, guiding her into the limo.

————————————————————

It's an awkward ride back, filled with a terribly gross tension that she could just feel in the air. It makes her skin sticky, and her lungs struggle to take in oxygen that she needs so badly.

She sits beside Ben, her brother who hasn't stopped glaring at their father since he got in the limo. Her father just thinks it's so amusing.

She grasps her brother's hand in her own, feels how much colder he is, and just tries to share her own warmth with him. She leans on his shoulder, just craving this, wanting to have this kind of contact, the kind that makes her feel so fuzzy inside.

Her brother doesn't push her away, doesn't tell she's disgusting, or anything of the sort. He leans into her too, lets her soak up all of this, this feeling that she's been needing. 

Her father gives them a strange look, one she isn't too sure she wants to guess what it means. It almost looks like that look Allison has been giving her, one full of jealousy, or maybe if she looked deeper she'd see something else.

He looks at her like she's a possession.

She doesn't like that look, not one bit.

————————————————————

When the limousine finally stops, and they are forced outside, the sun nearly blinds her. She hates it, for a moment, although she knows it doesn't hate her. 

It's just there, doing its thing.

She sighs, her father holds open the house door for them and they walk inside. The smell of breakfast hits her, makes her mouth water, and her stomach growl. She's ready to eat, and her body immediately turns to go into the dining room.

Ben walks ahead, clearly having the same mindset, and she goes to follow him. She's happy that he's okay, that he wasn't tortured, or punished. At least whatever he was forced to endure looked tolerable, but she won't really know until she asks him.

Looks can be deceiving, she knows.

He isn't avoiding her, which is a step in the right direction she thinks. Her father grasps her hand, she freezes, doesn't even breathe for a whole minute while Ben keeps walking, not realizing that she stopped.

"You are keeping me company," Her father says, whispers it into her skin like a promise only she needs to hear. She looks at Ben's back, watches as he disappears into the dining room, and she starts to shake.

She cursed her self to face this, she signed up for this, she is doing this for them. Even if her father seemly didn't torture Ben that badly he did something, something that made him throw up. Something so nasty that it made him sick to his stomach. She doesn't want that for anyone else.

She doesn't want them to hold a grudge against her. Not to mention she wouldn't be able to take it if her conscience got any more tainted.

"Breakfast," she mumbles, and he just tugs on her hand.

"We will eat lunch," he said, pulling her along.

"My anxiety pills..."

"You will live without them, at least for one morning." He pulls on her harder.

————————————————————

Company, that's what she is supposed to be. She isn't sure quite what that entails, so she assumes the worst.

He's going to want to continue where he left off even though he promised he wouldn't.

He's going to want more, he's going to want to move inside of her, ensuring for sure that she will die.

She sits on his bed, shakes like a leaf, she imagines she looks like a kicked puppy. He sits beside her, staring at her as if he expects her to do something. She doesn't know what he wants from her.

He reaches out a hand towards her and she flinches back from it, her eyes wide, expecting him to touch her anyway. He drops his hand.

It's only natural for her to be scared, to be so terrified of him, he has to see that. He has to know that this would happen, that all of his actions would cause her to gain such a feeling of fear towards him.

She doesn't want him to be a monster, but it's getting harder and harder not to see him as one.

"You are terrible company."

She flinches again, his words causing ice to form in her veins. She's so afraid that he is going to get angry with her, that he's going to grasp her with a bruising grip and force her to take him.

"I..." she starts, but she has no words, nothing comes to her mind. She looks away from him, hoping to calm her heart. Her heart instead decides to skyrocket in her chest when her eyes catch on something on his nightstand. Particularly because it wasn't there before, and the mere fact that it's a shot with a very sharp needle. A blue substance almost glows within it, and she pales.

What is that?

Why does he have that?

Is he going to give that to her?

Is he going to drug her and have his way with her? She's scared, she moves back, her mouth opening and closing again and again as she tries to get her thoughts together. Her father knows she saw, his eyes glimmer as he watches her squirm.

"This doesn't have to be hard," Her father said, picking up the shot. "Give me your wrist," he holds his hand out as if he just expects her to give it to him.

She jumps off the bed, gets to the door, only starts to open it as her father comes up behind her. He presses his hand against the door preventing her from opening it. She turns around, he presses a leg between hers pinning her against the door.

"Wrist."

Her hand twitches while she's raising it but after he grasps it with a bruising grip it stops. He steadies it as he starts to plunge that needle into her skin, injecting that blue substance into her veins.

It's a piercing pain.

"It's better like this," he says tonelessly before dropping the needle on the floor once it's empty. He wraps his hands around her, brings her into a cold embrace, and she starts to feel sleepy.

"Shhh," he whispers into her ears as she starts to numb. "You will be alright." He says, and she just closes her eyes welcoming the eerily familiar sensation of sleep, and she wonders for a moment if this is just the liquid form of her sleeping pills.

————————————————————

She awakens to the sensation of being carried, and she's filled with warmth. She rubs up against this warm body, mumbles something before she hears them speak.

"Is it the flu again?" 

It's Luther, and her eyes shoot open.

"More likely than not," her father says, and she feels the sensation of dropping, Luther is putting her down. Her eyes are barely adjusting to the darkness, but she realizes she's in a familiar room.

The room she was in the last time she was sick, that one time that she had fevers of one hundred and three. She still doesn't remember a lot of that time period, but her father said that fevers can have that effect on the brain.

She's placed on a small bed, and she rolls over, wanting to sleep. The walls are covered in black sheets, but it doesn't alarm her. In fact, her brain isn't really functioning, she's sure that if it was she'd be more concerned right now.

"Thank you One. Would you please inform the others of her condition?" Her father asks Luther, and she hears her brother make a noise of agreement. The door closes and the already darken room becomes even darker.

She hears her father walking to the bed, he sits on it, making a dip in it. She cuddles up to him, placing her head in his lap, and he rubs a hand in her hair.

"This is for the best," he says, and she mumbles something, a slew of slurred inaudible words. "The less complicated things are, the better."

She blinks, following the shapes her eyes create in the dark, before closing them and drifting back to sleep.

————————————————————

She wakes up in the darkness, and just blinks, needing time to realize where she was. Her body turns to ice, her stomach churning and cramping, and tears well up in her eyes.

Solitary.

This has to be solitary.

She just starts bawling, throwing her head into her pillow as tears just pour down her face. Her heart beating getting louder with each passing moment causing it to echo inside her ears.

She doesn't want to be here.

She wants to be in her room, she wants to see her siblings, wants to be hugged by Klaus. She wants to see Allison even if all she gets in return are glares.

"Please," she cries, doesn't know who she's talking to because she's alone. She doesn't fight the sobs wracking her body, just lets it happen.

————————————————————

Her sobbing has stopped, and she sits in her bed, on the corner. Her head leaning against the sheeted wall as her knees are pulled up to her chest. Small tears still flow down her face, but her throat hurts so much she can barely manage to breathe.

Her stomach growls at her, but she doesn't move. She doesn't have to try the door to know it's locked.

There's no point in entertaining the thought of escaping.

She clenches her teeth together, grinds them so harshly that she feels aching and pain spread across her gums. She's just so angry at herself, for letting her guard down, for letting the idea of someone believing her making her forget that solitary was a real threat.

Now here she is, alone, scared, and so cold. The only light that pours in is through a little window on the door, and no warmth enters this small space.

She feels so betrayed.

So lonely, and hungry, and god she just wants to be back in her room. She wraps herself up in the small thin blanket and curls into herself even more.

It's just so cold.

————————————————————

She doesn't know how long she sat there except that it felt like a thousand years have passed, only she knows it couldn't have been more than an hour. She isn't sure how long she slept either, this room provides no concept of time for her to grasp.

There's a knock on the door, and she pulls her blankets tighter to herself, as her father walks inside. In one of his hands is a purple fuzzy blanket that she imagines used to be Allison's at one point, and in the other hand is a bucket.

He sits the bucket in the right corner of the room near the door, it makes a metallic click as he sits it down. Then he walks over to her, sits down beside her and offers her the blanket, which she takes without question.

She snuggles with its soft warmth.

Her father places his hand against her cheek, she flinches but she can't go anymore back than where she is. He kisses her, places a hand above her, and he leans over her trapping her in that corner.

"I told you you're a terrible negotiator," he said as he brings his other hand to her throat, ripping off her bandages. "If you were a halfway decent one you would have asked me to specify how long you'd be required to keep me company."

Her neck aches as her skin is starting to breathe again. He presses his lips against her neck, and then she feels him lick her skin. She wrings her hands in this purple blanket, and she hears it making small ripping sounds.

"I'm...hungry." She mumbles, clenching her eyes shut, trying to imagine she's anywhere but here.

"I'll bring you food later," he whispers against the sensitive skin on her neck before adding another nail to her coffin, "only if you're a good girl." 

Her throat burns, he keeps kissing it, the only godsend she has is that he decided not to lick her again. He presses a hand on her leg through the blanket and pulls, using his other hand to push on her shoulder.

He lays her on the bed so easily that for a moment she just feels like a doll, one that's been broken and abused.

He rubs a hand over her privates, and even though the blanket it causes sparks to go through her body, and not the good ones. These are red hot sparks, the ones that burn and just cause pain to radiate from her insides.

He stops, his hands freezing, and instead he changes his attention to the blanket. He grasps it, pulls it off of her with such ease that she just feels helpless. Then he just lays down beside her, and she stares at him like he's grown an extra head.

He throws the blanket over them and pulls her into his embrace. She's facing him, and that brings her relief, but the bed is so small that she's forced to be pushed up against him so hard that it makes her uncomfortable. 

She's sandwiched between him and the wall.

She feels claustrophobic.

He rubs her head, lets his fingers comb through her hair, and then she feels him. His rod hard, and just radiating heat against her. She stills, tries to back away some, but there's no room.

He notices her discomfort, she doesn't know how he wouldn't. "You aren't ready yet," he whispers against her, and she nods, nods so quickly that her head starts to hurt. "That's fine," he says, letting a hand wander to her stomach, where he lifts her shirt and places his hand against her bare flesh.

"There is an abundance of other things I'd like to learn more about," he said before kissing her forehead.

She doesn't want this, she doesn't want to know what things he wants from her, but on the other hand she is relieved, so glad that he finally understands that he can't put his rod inside of her. She is just so relieved that for a moment that's all she can think about.

She's going to be alright.

Tears flow down her face but no sobs accompany them, her throat hurts so much that she'd just cause herself pain. The tears, some from relief, others from fear dampen the blankets. Her father wipes them away, giving her a sweet smile.

One she knows is fake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Heavy Rape/Non-Con Ahead]
> 
> I am going to go drown my sorrows in a bucket of ice cream. I swear that the end of this chapter is the start of a rocky, but nonetheless up road hill filled with comfort.

She eats a rather dry ham sandwich that's accompanied water and her pills. She is slow while she eats, seeing no reason to rush, her father brought a chair down with him and is currently taking notes in his journal.

She takes a bite, wondering what he's writing because his eyes gleam like someone who has just discovered the cure for cancer.

She takes another bite, just staring at him, just watching him write such neat words with practiced precision. He doesn't look back to her while she's staring, but he has to know that she is. People can feel that, she can feel that, it's the worst feeling when you are being stared at.

She turns away, downs her pills, and just feels a sense of numbness, which she might usually contribute to her pills. Today though, she doesn't. It's because she's here in this room, there's no hope for escape, no hope for change, and when you boil it down there's no point for her to fight anymore.

She's already hit rock bottom, everything hurts, her protests just make it worse. He isn't stopping, he won't stop even if she kicks or screams. 

He's on a mission that she's an unwilling passenger on.

She's tired of fighting, of being ignored, of feeling that hopeless feeling when her fighting does nothing.

She wonders if he'll realize he doesn't have to be nice to her anymore. This is it, rock bottom, Hell, the worst thing imaginable, this is enough to break her spirits.

"It takes approximately one hundred and forty-six muscles to kiss," her father said while shutting his journal. She nods, isn't sure what he wants her to say. He stands, and she takes her final bite. Eating the whole sandwich but still feeling a pit of emptiness inside of her.

He lifts the tray off her lap and sets it down on the chair he had been sitting on along with his journal.

Something is different.

She doesn't know what it is, can't really pinpoint what makes her feel this way, but she's sure something is different. Somewhere between him leaving and bringing her food, something changed.

She won't ask what it is, she won't say a word, she doesn't care anymore. At least she wishes she thought like that but her heart still yearns to care for him, to ask what's wrong, to be what he needs. She tries not to listen because she knows that she must be mental.

He sits down on her bed, gives her a calculating stare. She just states back, lets him melt her with his gaze, because what's the point in fighting this anymore?

"I should have started with you here, a closed environment is best suited for these kinds of experiments," he's expecting her to say something but she's not going to. She has no interest in using her voice when it just makes her feel like she's been gargling nails.

He pulls on the blanket that she had surrounded herself in, not for protection, but for simple warmth and comfort. She lets it go, doesn't even try to keep it. She just looks away when he goes to hover over her, making her feel like his toy beneath him, he acts as if he belongs in that space.

She looks at the opposite wall, lets her mind create shapes in the darkness, and she only flinches when she feels him pull up her shirt. She doesn't move, but he doesn't seem to register that as a problem. It only took him an extra second to get her shirt clean off her body, the cold air making it hard to ignore.

But she does.

The shapes her eyes create take on bigger forms, monsters. Little demons dancing in the dark, so she has to look back to him, to get those demons to go away. 

She can't read his face, it shows no emotions for her to grasp. She wonders if he knows now, knows that the soft side he pretended to have doesn't need to exist anymore. It wouldn't provide her any comfort in here, because only her cold-hearted father would lock her away.

He lifts up her wrist, looks at the bruises running up her arm, and scrunches up his nose. 

"These are rather unsightly," He says it like it's her fault, like he thinks it's just so disgusting that she had ruined her body. He ruined her, he gave her these bruises, it's all his fault.

She doesn't say a word.

He drops her hand and it bounces lifelessly on the bed. She tries to just imagine she's somewhere else, she calms her heart, she just needs to accept that she's never going to escape. 

It's an easy thing to accept when you're already broken.

He takes off her skirt, drags it down her legs so easily that she wonders what he's thinking. She doesn't want to guess, she just wants it to be over with.

It's cold, she shivers from the ice-cold air that keeps touching her skin. He leans back over her, filling that space, and cutting off some of the colder air from reaching her skin.

"Have you finally got tired of whining?" He asks his voice just making her eyes water, he always hated it, each time she cried. He just put up with it because he needed her for research. 

She closes her eyes.

He presses his hips snug against hers and rubs. She feels his rod warm, and hard as he makes her legs twitch. He presses a hand against one of her arms, not allowing her to entertain any ideas of getting up.

She just keeps her eyes closed, listens to the bed creaking underneath her from his movements. The room stinks of its cleanliness, she wonders if this is bleach she's smelling but she isn't sure. She makes a noise, it tumbles out of her mouth, hoarse, and shaky.

She doesn't like that her body responds even when she's not even focusing on what's going on. She's ignoring his rod rubbing against her clothed slits, she's ignoring the way it burns, she's ignoring the way it beckons a strange pleasure to bubble in her stomach.

She tries to ignore it all but noises won't stop making their way out of her mouth.

She opens her eyes and watches him swallow, watches the way his neck moves, and she presses her free hand on it. He doesn't stop rubbing against her, doesn't acknowledge her touching, so she just slides her hand over his unscathed skin.

"Can-" she starts, stops when she realized she barely made a sound. Her voice is almost gone, but she isn't worried about it. What use was it going to do anyway? He never listened when she said no, or stop.

"Go ahead," he said, pushing a hand inside her underwear before he starts yanking it down. She isn't worried, at least not about him putting his rod inside, because if nothing else her father is a man of his word. He won't do that to her, he promised.

She can't help that the empty void inside her chest grows bigger. She doesn't want to fight, doesn't want to cause herself pain, her body is so numb that she's sure she'll never feel anything the right way again.

She tries to make this better.

She's finally special, finally she's doing something right. He's going to use her, he's going to experiment on her, he's going to use this research for something. She's finally useful to him, she's finally like her siblings, she can't wait until she can tell them...

Tell them that she's finally like them.

Just another tool, just another number, just a fascinating guinea pig.

She is content, some part of her is happy to know that her existence wasn't in vain. He will make sure to get all he needs to know, he will make sure to not leave a part of her untouched in the name of science.

"Be quiet," he says, and she leans her head up, opens her mouth and grazes her teeth along his neck.

He rubs a hand over her sensitive nub and she bites, deeply, but not deep enough to cause too much bleeding. Just enough pressure that she can start to taste rust.

She curls her toes into the bed, biting down harder as she feels him force a hand underneath her bra. Warm blood drips from her lips down her chin and she just feels satisfaction.

Then she pulls away, practically rips herself out of him to see the bite mark she left. What's wrong with her? It makes her skin crawl, how for a moment she thought that she was doing the right thing. She thought for a moment it was alright for her to take out her anger on him, that sinking her teeth into his bare flesh was okay.

It isn't.

"Sorry," the whole word is almost inaudible but she had to say it anyway. The guilt falling over her, dumping upon her like a half-ton of bricks.

Her father ignores her, just like he ignores the blood that bubbles to the surface of the bite mark. "This would be more effective if I had more test subjects," he says, more to himself than her, but that doesn't stop her heart from shutting down in her chest.

"No," she mumbles, grasping his suit as a sharp pain shoots up her insides, his fingers dipping too close to her still raw areas. She's scared, couldn't live with herself if he decided she wasn't enough.

What if he decided to bring Allison here too? What if he decided that the thought of Three isn't disgusting anymore? What if starts to touch her like this? What if he makes her dirty too?

"You...have me," she coughs out, choking on her own spit. 

He doesn't say a word, just leans back, stopping all of his motions, allowing that climbing sensation in her stomach to drop. Then he goes to touch her hair, and she doesn't think anything of it, until he yanks.

He yanks her head to the side, her scalp burns but he doesn't let up. Her fight and flight response kick in and she digs her nails into her father's arm. He grasps her hand with his free one and squeezes so hard that she can't feel the air in her lungs. She's screaming, letting it all out, except no noise leaves her, just small grasps that a dying person might make.

She hears a pop, then a searing pain rips down her body and he drops her hand. It lays motionless at her side, it hurts, burns, but she can wiggle her fingers. He yanks her head harder, uses the other one to cut off her breathing as he bites down on her neck, hard, so hard that she can feel her skin breaking.

His hand is clasped over her mouth, and nose so harshly that she can't breathe. She kicks, pushes as hard as she can against him, trying to get him to stop, but she's helpless, her arms are growing weaker with each contraction of her chest when her lungs try to take in oxygen she needs so badly.

Black dots start appearing in her vision, her arms drop to her side, and her father finally stops biting her. He leans back, blood glistens on his lips, as he watches her lose all sense of reality.

————————————————————

She slowly comes to, her body aching, her neck burning, and the soft blanket caressing her body. She's completely naked, she can only assume that her father stole the rest of her clothes. Did he want to make her vulnerable? It doesn't matter to her right now, he's already seen everything.

Is there a point to getting self-conscious about it?

She's more worried about her neck, about the fact that her father had done such a thing. She was afraid that he was going to kill her, that he was going to bite so deeply that she'd choke on her own blood as her life left her body.

She brings her hand up, just wanting to feel the mark, only to be blocked by bandages. Bandages that felt so familiar around her neck that she hadn't even realized they were there until she felt them with her hands.

She turns around to face the darkness of the room, the blanket caresses her naked form as she moves, and then she freezes. Her brother, Luther is sitting on the chair beside her bed, a knife in one hand, and an apple in the other. He sits, peeling it, except it's clear he's never done it before because everything just looks uneven.

She pulls up the blanket until half of her face is consumed by it, she can't let him see her, how disgusting she's become. She already makes him sick as it is.

He notices that she's awake, and he gives her a soft smile. "Do you want one?" He offers her a slice of the apple, with the knife she might add, which explains the wave of anxiety that hits her. She shakes her head, he just pops the apple slice in his mouth.

He chews, slowly, just bathing in the sight of her, she flushes red. She wants to tell him to stop staring but she stays silent. He rubs a hand through his hair, looks away from her, and she just feels relief.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, mumbles like he isn't really sure he wants to say those words, "I didn't really mean all those things I said." He stands, before scooting the chair closer to the bed. He sits and lays a hand on her forehead.

"You're hot," he mumbles concern littering his face as she closes her eyes. "You'll feel better soon, father says this is just a passing sickness." She nods, his hand starts to rub her scalp, helping to ease some of the burn that her father left her with.

Is it even worth it to try and explain that this sickness she has is entirely caused by their father? She doesn't open her mouth, knowing with how hoarse her voice is she couldn't even if she wanted to.

"I am sorry," he said again as if he thought that maybe she didn't hear him the first time. "Father explained to me that fevers are known to cause hallucinations." His voice is comforting, his words not so much.

So now he thinks she's crazy?

Is that what her father is going to tell everyone else too? Is Klaus going to doubt her words? What about Ben and Diego? Is Five worrying about her? Or is he happy that he can't accidentally be near her now? What does Allison think?

Her heart beats, it thumps loudly, pumping blood through her body as she's lulled to sleep by her brother's comforting presence.

She knows, it occurs to her as she's drifting off, that all she had to do was lift up her blankets and he'd see how filthy her father made her.

He'd have to believe her if he saw.

————————————————————

She awakens to the smell of chicken noodle soup, it's a strong smell, and familiar. It almost makes her sad, because it reminds her of her siblings so much. She opens her eyes, and for a moment just staring at her father.

"Sit up," he said not caring that her body hurt, and her neck is so very sensitive. She sits up, hissing as she goes, and struggling to breathe once she's sat upright. It takes her a good moment to catch her breath.

He sits in the chair, already pulled up to the bed, and sits down the bowl of soup in her lap. She looks at it but doesn't move, she doesn't want to move. Food isn't a concern when her body feels as if it's about to fall apart.

He taps his finger on his pants, a sign of impatience, she picks up the spoon, her hand shakes so badly that she spills the steaming hot substance on her bare chest. It burns and she flinches so hard that the bowl tilts, almost spills on to her lap, and her father looks so livid.

She tries again, to take another bite, and she does manage one, the soup burns her tongue, and numbs her tastebuds. She can see the bite mark she gave her father, small bloody teeth marks are imprinted in his neck. It seems like he's made no move to hide them.

He grasps her hand as she goes to take another spoon full, easily taking the spoon from her weak grasp. He starts to feed her, slowly, and steadily while not saying a word. She just opens her mouth when he brings the spoon and swallows when she thinks her throat feels ready.

It's quiet, the only sound is an eerie buzzing from far off.

As she's sipping down the last of the soup, there's a knock on the door before it opens. Her mother walks in, doesn't look at her, and just gives a thin-lipped frown.

"We have guests," she informs her father, who stands, but doesn't move to leave.

"Tell them I'm busy," he said, he starts to unbutton his suit's top, his white undershirt slowly becoming visible with each click. 

She shakes, afraid, the bite mark he gave her jump-started her anxiety and she's no longer able to pretend that she's going to be fine. A fire lights up in her veins, battling with the cold ice that has already made its home there.

She looks to her mother, begs her with her best puppy eyes. Her mother gives a frown, and she turns away unable to look at her. 

"We have guests," she repeats again, and her father stills, his hand on the last button. He frowns, drops his hand and walks past her mother, to deal with these so-called guests.

Her mother walks inside, gently placing a hand against her head, feeling for a temperature. She frowns even harder.

"You are quite warm," 

She grasps her mother's hand, pulls, and her mother sits on the bed without much protest. She pushes her head into her mother's chest, throws her hands around her back, and she cries. Silent tears, no sobs reach her lips, and her mother lets her.

A hand grasps her back, and kisses are pressed against her forehead.

"Sweetie," Her mother coos, and she just soaks up this warmth.

She pulls back, pats her eyes free of tears and then grasps her mother's hands, holding tightly. "I want-I need a bath," she said, hoping that her mother could at least allow her that.

Her mother frowns.

"Please," she begs, her mother turns away.

"I'm so dirty!" She cries, grasping her mother as hard as she could. "Please, I'll be good."

Her mother shakes her head sadly, before embracing her tightly. 

If her mother's hearing wasn't so good she doubts she would have hurt any of those weak words she mumbled.

————————————————————

Her mother left.

Left her all alone.

She cuddles with the purple blanket, craving the warmth, the comfort, and just enjoys it. She wishes she had clothes, each passing moment she gets more and more self-conscious, her beginning confidence already shattered in half.

Then the door opens, her father walks in, upset, angry, just fuming. He shuts the door behind him, hard, it makes a loud bang as it shuts. She jumps in her skin, moves to the corner of the bed, just trying to get away from her father who is about to explode.

She doesn't want to be at the end of this volcanic eruption, she can't, her body is too weak. She can't handle all this, but she will if that means he won't steal away another one of her siblings.

"Father..." she mumbles, just trying her old tricks, her first instincts, the ones that insist he just needs to understand he's her family. Her father moves like a predator on the hunt, and she presses harder into the corner.

Her father grasps her wrists and pulls, drags her off the bed, and if he didn't throw a hand around her waist she would have fallen. He presses her naked form against him, and she shivers. He lets go, grabs the purple blanket, and throws it around her.

"How disgraceful," he said, making her feel so filthy, although it's all his fault she has no clothes. 

"Sorry."

"You are disgusting," he says, and she just feels her walls crumbling inside her heart. He pushes her back down on the bed, she scoots against the wall, holding the blankets tightly around her. He unbuttons the last button on his suit's shirt before draping it over the chair beside the bed.

"That is your most undesirable trait," he pulls the blanket down, she just closes her eyes, letting this happen. Seeing no reason to fight, although she wants to, the need is boiling inside her but she ignores it.

When she fights back it makes everything worse.

"I'm sorry," he mocks her as he sits down in front of her and tears well up in her eyes before she can help it. "That is the most horrendous self-defense mechanism you could have developed."

He presses a hand on her stomach, it trails down to her privates before he dips it into her insides without a warning, she flinches, those red hot sparks filling her body up. 

Pain, all she feels is pain, but she just bites her lip. If she fights she won't accomplish anything except making her life harder.

"Sorry," he mocks again, pressing his finger deeper within her, she makes a strangled noise of pain "Apologize again, you know you want to." His voice is condescending as he presses he lips against hers. She clenches her eyes shut even harder, trying not to let his words break her.

He pulls his fingers out, they glisten, and he just glares at her. "Don't you want to apologize for making me so filthy?" 

"Sorry," the word finally tumbles out, her method of self-defense. He grins, tilts his head to the side as he shakes his head.

"Shut up!" He slams a hand on the wall above her, a crackling sound burrows into her ears, and the black sheet just blows as if there was wind in the room. "You don't get to do that." He presses that hand on her throat and squeezes.

A burning sensation shoots up her body first and then it's followed by her body's realization that she can no longer take in oxygen. She gasps for air, a motion that she doesn't control, it just happens.

He brings that glistening finger to his mouth and licks. She scrunches up her nose, imagining the gross taste of herself, Her vision starts to blur, black dots cover her sights, and then he stops, lifts his hands right off of her leaving her numb. 

He pushes her on to the bed to lay down, she barely feels a thing. He spreads her legs, she barely blinks.

Nothing seems real anymore.

He presses his fingers inside, without any worry about hurting her. She closes her eyes, the feeling barely reaching her. He moves them in and out of her, she imagines she's in a field of roses with her siblings. Her siblings touch the thorns, and she watches as they bleed, bleed much more than you're supposed to.

Her heart aches in her chest.

She opens her eyes, stares at the ceiling as the gross, squishing sound his fingers are making each time they move inside echo. It's gross, she feels her stomach roll, but she just keeps staring at the ceiling.

This isn't real.

She isn't being touched.

Her father isn't doing this to her.

She hears it, the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered, and tells herself again 'this isn't real'. She has to, otherwise, she wouldn't be able to function. She can't face this, can't handle this anymore, she just needs to escape even if that's into her own mind.

She feels his rod pressed against her slits, feels him shatter every remaining piece of trust she had as he forces his way inside of her. 

Tears roll down her cheek but she keeps looking at the ceiling, repeating to herself that this isn't real, this can't be real. Her father loves her, he cares about her, he would never hurt her like this.

He doesn't stop, not caring that she's crying, he moves inside. He rocks his hips into her, her legs widen up, and all she feels is burning flames igniting inside of her. It feels like she's being split in two each time he forces himself in deeper but she just keeps looking at the ceiling.

This isn't happening, it can't be, she's dreaming.

The flames travel through her body, and her legs start to ache, she's sure she'll have bruises on them. He presses a hand on her hips, it's tight, and his nails dig into her skin.

She just keeps crying as the ceiling looks less and less appealing. 

This is happening, it's really happening, he's inside of her. She just starts sobbing, her body convulsing as she feels the pain. She can escape this, she can't run away.

"Stop..." she mumbles, hoarsely, her father doesn't even acknowledge it.

She throws her hands up, pressing against him, pressing her legs together...at least she tries to, and then he raises his free hand. He just presses it against her throat, and she stops taking in oxygen.

Her protests slow down, her arms growing heavy again, and black dots cloud her vision.

She stops feeling as her father pounds into her again. As she loses consciousness she sees the scowl still placed upon his face.

She floats away, in the darkness of her mind, unconscious finally taking her, drowning her inside its comforting warmth. She stays, somehow finds herself wishing she could stay here forever, but she knows it's not possible.

She starts to wake up, the vile feeling of something inside her makes a hiss fall out of her mouth. She opens her eyes, braces herself to see her father above her, but she doesn't.

It's her mother, sitting between her legs, her eyes focused on her insides.

Her legs are propped up with pillows, the blankets are thrown off her privates giving her mom a full view of it. She freezes, feels her mother softly rub a finger inside of her. 

She just starts bawling, what else is she supposed to do? It's her mother, it's really her mother touching her like this.

Her mother freezes, noticing her silent sobs, and she pulls out her finger. She raises her hands in an attempt to calm her, they are covered in blood.

That's her blood.

Her father tore her.

He really ruined her.

"Shhh!" Her mother shushes, throwing a hand around her shoulder, picking her up and forcing her into in into a hug, blood is rubbing off on her back. "It's okay now, I promise." She coos, trying to ensure her everything is alright but her sobs don't stop.

Why was her mother touching her like that?

Her mother rocks her like she's a baby in her embrace. She feels the blood dripping out of her insides.

"You are going to be okay," her mother promises, kissing her hair, "You aren't suffering from any internal injuries aside from a few small scratches." She cries even harder in her mother's hold, relief falling over her. 

She was just checking her out, making sure she was okay. Her mother would never touch her like that, never like the blood curling way her father does.

Her insides ache, her stomach cramps, and her mother pulls her in even closer.

"Congratulations sweetheart," Her mother whispers as she kisses her forehead, "you are officially a woman."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half made me mildly uncomfortable.This was another chapter that I spilt in half because I felt like it should be. Reginald’s master plan is slowly being unraveled one chapter at a time <3

"Do you know how babies are made?"

She flinches in her mother's hold, not expecting the silence to be broken with that question. Her mother, feeling the discomfort that settles over her, doesn't say anymore, but yes, she knows how babies are made.

Sex makes babies.

Her father had told them once upon a time ago, that he wouldn't tolerate any of them starting families of their own. Which of course was something she and her siblings laughed about, why wouldn't they?

They were young, so young that the idea of ever having a family seemed crazy and unrealistic. Which it still is, but at the time they weren't even sure what sex was, and yet he was just certain that somebody wasn't going to listen.

She wonders why he picked her, why out of everyone he could have, why her. She isn't sure what this feeling that settled in her chest is called, but she'll call it bitterness.

She's upset that it was her he picked. Why couldn't he have picked Allison? Why couldn't he have raped her? Why didn't he just shove his rod inside of her sister so she herself would never have known how disgusting it feels.

She hates these thoughts, tears pour down her face as all she wants to do is drown.

There's something wrong with her.

Nobody should ever wish this, what she's had to go through on anyone else but some part of her does. She knows she'll never be able to live a normal life now.

Her father has ruined her.

She feels so bitter.

She just wants to be the good sister, the good little girl her father wants, and the good person the world wants her to be. Yet, it's getting harder and harder to accept that she should be good. That she needs to care, that she needs to be concerned, that she needs this stupid fleshy organ in her chest.

She hates it.

The human heart, weak, tangible, and oh so useless, singing its stupid song in her ears.

She wishes it would shut up.

"Isn't it a good feeling? When you realize the world isn't a perfect little circle." Her father said, seemly appearing out of nowhere, although she knows that she was just so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice him come in.

She flinches, her mother grasps her tighter as if she's trying to protect her, but she knows that when push comes to shove her mother will cave into her father. She isn't mad though, she understands that her mother is forced to abide by his demands.

Her father's mere presence is enough to drive fear into her heart as well, so she understands.

"It never has been, not even since the dawn of time, although humans continually try to convince themselves that it is." Her father drops onto her lap a pile of clothes. A fresh, clean, uniform for her to wear.

"Get dressed." Her father demands her to do this.

She moves, starts to sit up, feeling the grossness of blood pouring out of her. She reaches a hand down to her privates, uncaring of the eyes on her, she just needs to see it for herself. She wipes the blood off of her privates onto her palm and then pulls her hand out to look at it.

It isn't blood.

No, it is, but there's something else mixed in with it.

That pearly disgusting substance that looks a lot like the stuff that came out of his rod. But it's different she isn't sure how it is but she knows it is. 

It seems more...alive? Warm? Pearly? Something about it is different but she can't pinpoint it.

Her father grins, a lot like the cat who caught the canary.

"Do you know what that is?" He asks, and she just stares at it, trying to figure it out. "That's sperm," he places his hand on hers, and the sperm rubs between their hands. "Happily donated by one of your brothers," he whispers, placing on a single knee on the bed while he kisses her.

She stays so still, hoping that if she turns into a statue that she'll forget everything she's hearing.

"I told you we couldn't reproduce, and I wasn't lying. That only meant I had to improvise." She clenches her teeth together, wishing he'd just stop talking. "Don't worry, nobody was forced to do this, it was a mutual agreement. They are easy to manipulate when they don't know all the details."

She presses harder into her mother, who has been rubbing her soothing motions into her hair.

"Artificial insemination is such a wonder isn't it?" He grins, kisses her again, before pulling back and pressing the clothes into her chest.

"Get dressed," he said again, standing while wiping his hands off on his pants, and leaving without another word.

She just cries into her mother's chest while her mom rocks her back and forth like she would with a small child.

"It's okay now," her mother keeps repeating into her hair.

It isn't helping.

She feels like her world is crumbling down around her. She imagines flames from the depths of hell consuming her body, and chains being locked around her ankles, never letting her escape from her sins.

————————————————————

Her mother leaves but promises that she will be back soon.

She gets dressed, standing on her unstable legs that threaten to cave in at any moment. She feels so much better now that she's clothed. 

She is less vulnerable now.

There's a knock on the door, she turns her head and sees Luther smiling at her. The door opens, and she just looks at him.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks, coming inside. She sits down on the bed, trying to mask the fact that no, she isn't feeling better.

She will never be okay again.

Her insides burn, her legs feel weak, but she really only feels a sense of numbness over coming her.

She nods anyway, lying with a small smile on her lips.

"That's good," he whispers, sitting down beside her, his body radiating warmth. She scoots away, wondering if he was the one to donate that vile substance.

The sperm that inhabits her body came from one of them, and she bets it was probably him. Her father probably sold him some sob story, or maybe told him that it was for training or research.

Or god knows what, and Luther just shrugged and said okay, whatever, like that daddy's boy that he is.

He probably did it, donated his sperm, and then never thought about it again.

She isn't mad at him, if it was him, because she knows that this is just how it is. Their father pulling the strings attached by sharp hooks on their backs, they are nothing but his puppets.

They exist to do his bidding and when their actions don't suit him he punishes them.

She still loves her father, still feels as if, maybe he loves her too. That maybe some part of his cold, unfeeling heart cares for her as the daughter she wishes he'd see her as.

She still loves Luther too, even if he doesn't love her.

She still loves everyone, because it's at times like this, when your world is falling apart that you have to love and keep loving unconditionally because you need it.

She needs so much of it.

"Vanya..." he places a hand on her cheek, wet from tears that she hadn't registered until now.

He falls backward onto the bed, a hand pressed on her cheek forcing her to lay with him. The bed beneath them is soft, and the air surrounding them feels toxic, almost deadly.

"Hey talk to me," he whispers while he's entangling his legs with hers. "What's wrong?" She just cries harder because she knows, knows that he's trying so hard to be a good brother.

He still wouldn't believe her right now, even if she cried and confessed all of her sins.

He wraps a hand around her back, using a harsh but gentle grip to force her face into his chest. Then he rubs as she starts to weep, she wraps a hand around his back and just cries.

He starts to hum, she doesn't know what he's humming, or if it's even a song, but she finds herself being comforted by that sound.

————————————————————

Humming, she tries to hum along with him, but she can't seem to do it right. Mainly because her throat is basically falling apart, but hey at least she's trying, right?

"You know I'm not good with these kinds of things," he said, taking a break from humming.

"I know," she whispers, leaning backward, right out of his grasp. She sits upright, her shirt riding up on her back and arms, so she smooths it back down, she wouldn't want to blind him with her disgusting body littered with bruises. She rubs her feet against the cold floor.

"Attention whore," Luther mutters and for a whole moment, she just looks at him with a look of horror. She continues to look at him with wide eyes as he sits up, a hand over his chest, laughing while tears pick his eyes.

"That's what Allison told me when I talked to her, you know, about those things you told me." He looks away, his laughter dies in a split second. "She said 'Vanya and father are in love. She's just lying.'"

He turns back to her, grasps her hands tightly, before pushing her down. He hovers over her, fear courses through her body as he sits on her.

"Take off your shirt," he demands, tells her like, like he's her father.

She shakes her head, throws a hand over her chest, but he just grabs her shirt and pulls in-turn ripping it to shreds.

"Don't look at me!" She screams, pushing against him, kicking her legs, while he just stares at her filth.

He punches the wall, she doesn't just hear it's glass exterior shatter but she sees it, the black sheet falls and little particles of glass rain down on them. He leans over her, protecting her from his own method of anger management. He punches the wall again, for good measure she assumes, and then he drops his hand beside her head as he just stares at her.

She stops fighting, just looks at him, at the sad look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," tears prick his eyes, and she looks away.

She isn't mad, she was never mad, she was just upset.

"It's okay," she whispers, bringing a hand up to his cheek.

He slaps her hand away, it burns, and a red mark immediately forms on her hand. "It's never going to be okay!" He growls, directing his anger at her, although she knows he doesn't mean to.

"Klaus kept-" he stops, stares, and just shakes his head. He gets off of her and stands up off the bed.

His eyebrows furrowed in anger, and then he leaves, just leaves.

She watches him go and realizes that he left the door open.

She could leave.

————————————————————

She doesn't leave, her father hasn't given his okay, and she isn't interested in being beaten to death or raped a second time. So she just sits on the bed, surrounded by glass, humming that tune Luther had and lets the open door torture her.

Then she hears footsteps, and she knows they're her father's footsteps because they are accompanied by the clicking of a cane. He walks inside, not at all concerned about the open door, and throws a shirt at her.

She wonders if Luther went to him, and argued. She wonders if her father sold him another sob story, told him he's training her or something, and then her brother just accepted it.

She wonders, wonders about so many things.

she takes off her shirt, or well what's left of it and throws on the new one.

"If you don't hurry we will be late," he said and she smooths down her shirt. Are they going somewhere? Is she really going to get out of solitary? Is she going to see her siblings? Or is she getting dragged away to another hell?

"Don't give me that look," her father lectures, "if you want to stay in here be my guest." She shakes her head and stands up to be by his side.

"That's what I thought," he said walking out, and she follows behind.

————————————————————

She follows, close, because the house has this weird tense air like it's trying to eat her. She isn't sure why she feels this way, considering that all she feels is fuzzy warmth. She's out of solitary, she didn't really stay an eternity there.

Of course her father wasn't serious when he said that.

Even as she tries to be positive, she still feels this terribly tense air as she starts to see her siblings.

Her siblings are all in a line, ready and proper. Are they coming too?

It's the first time she's seen them in so long, and it breaks her heart because she knows her father broke his promise. He didn't leave Klaus and Diego alone.

Klaus is fidgeting, his hands keep rubbing up against his arms, leaving red welts from how hard he's scratching. His face keeps twitching as he is mumbling underneath his breath, and then just gives her a glance full of fear.

If she had to guess she'd say he was punished by getting all of his drugs taken away. Or maybe he was trained, he always did hate that.

Then Diego, he looks better compared to Klaus, but he's covered in bruises that she's sure he didn't have before. Some of them look worse than others and she can only imagine what he was forced to do.

Luther doesn't look at her, but he exudes guilt like Ben does.

Five just looks angry, at the world she assumes.

Allison looks angry too, but that anger is directed towards her.

There are so many mixed feelings here that she feels as if she might suffocate from the toxicity.

They should be happy to see her again, she knows she's happy to see them. Yet, somehow they aren't. Nobody looks like they missed her, nobody really looks at her like 'geez I'm glad you’re better.' 

Nobody smiles at her.

She wonders if she's supposed to be like them. If she's supposed to be sad and depressed. Is that the emotions she supposed to feel in a situation like this?

She does feel sad, lonely, broken, but just for a moment, her siblings, and the concept of freedom override those feelings. She just feels so happy.

"Although yes, jeopardy is a game, I do I expect you all to be on your best behavior." There is a mumbled yes father that echos throughout the house.

Jeopardy, she remembers that, but she didn't think that they were actually going to attend it. He didn't say anything, she wonders why he didn't.

There has to be some trick, something in the fine print that she isn't going to like, which is why he didn't tell her they were going.

————————————————————

The limousine ride is tense.

She actually finds herself leaning into her father because her siblings are looking much scarier. They look at each other, in that telepathic way, and almost seem like they are plotting a murder, that along with the fear battling inside of their eyes is scary.

Klaus is the only sound she hears, his small mumbles, almost sounding like he's telling something to go away.

When she leans into her father, the source of all of her suffering, she feels a surprising amount of comfort. He keeps looking out the window and doesn't acknowledge that she's basically melting into his side.

It's good.

She feels better.

Feels like she has some rock to keep her sane, some rock to stop the aching of her insides.

Then she starts getting these glares from her siblings and it hurts. They are judging her, probably thinking that she's mental, or maybe that she lied about the whole thing.

She wants to cry, they just don't understand.

She's scared of them, of these extraordinary people who are battling between the two human emotions of fear and hatred. She's afraid of one of them snapping at her, and she's afraid that she isn't going to be able to protect them from her father when he decides to punish them.

She doesn't want them to get hurt.

She wants to protect them.

She doesn't want them to hurt her.

She's so ordinary and weak.

She just doesn't know anymore, her head hasn't been screwed on the right way for a while.

————————————————————

As soon as they get inside of this game show building, her siblings are ushered away. An earpiece is put in their ears and they are taken to the stage where each of them has a little booth. 

There are three empty booths, which she assumes will be filled with three fans who will have a once in a lifetime opportunity of playing.

A microphone is put on her father's suit, she assumes so that at anytime he can talk to them.

They are going to be opening the doors in ten minutes, so they were cutting it close when they arrived.

She watches her siblings get situated and she just feels that ping of jealousy. Her father offered this to her, a chance to take part in this, and she's glad she didn't although she still feels jealous.

It's only natural.

She feels her father pull on her hand, and she follows, assuming he's going to take her to a seat so that they can watch. Only he leads her out a door, that says employees only, and she feels her heart drop.

Why does everything have to be difficult? He turns to her, without words, and rips the bandages off of her neck. The breeze makes the skin sting, and she feels self conscious. She raises her hand to feel the teeth indented in her skin. It's deep, and painful.

He grasps her hand again and pulls.

She wants to say something, anything, but she doesn't. She isn't going to make him mad, she has no interest in facing anymore of his wrath.

He leads them upstairs, and then to a door labeled 'vip seating.' Relief falls over her again, of course she was just overthinking things. They are Hargreeves after all, Vip seating makes sense, up here she assumes is just a balcony.

Then he says something, and she just feels goosebumps cover her body.

"Today, we're finding out if those dice were the right ones to throw," he said, tonelessly, and she just shivers.

What does that mean? What is that supposed to tell her?

He opens the door.

This is a balcony of sorts, glass lines the front of it but it provides a full view of the stage. The part that makes her lean back into her father is the people that already here.

Rich, old men, who look at her in strange ways, ones that remind her of how her father has before. He walks inside, takes a seat in the front row of this three-row balcony. She sits beside him, leans into him, just hoping that the dice he threw weren't the right ones.

Or maybe she's hoping they are the right ones. She has no idea, none at all what is supposed to happen or what her father expected at all.

She can still feel their eyes.

She can feel the way air is stifled in her lungs.

She only sees one other child here, and that child is three seats down from her, all she has to do is look to her left and she sees the little boy. A man is beside that child, a young boy, younger than her, who has a collar around his neck as if he was pet.

Her skin crawls but her father taps her bare knees.

"Don't stare," he whispers, and she pulls her skirt down to cover her knees before looking out the glass window as people start coming in and finding their seats.

It's going to be a full house.


	12. Chapter 12

"Four is going to abandon his post," her father said, his eyes trained on his siblings as if he's predicting their every move. She doesn't really understand though, so she just nods as he pulls her in tighter to him. She doesn't mind being smothered against him at least she can imagine that he's protecting her from the men because he can feel them staring too.

She wonders if they think she might be like her siblings but she isn't. She's just an ordinary little girl and nobody should waste their time with her.

The hand around her shoulder rubs in comforting motions as she stares at her siblings on stage. Her siblings look happy, which is something that makes her happy.

The more she stares, the more she watches them smile at the crowd, the more she realizes she can't lie to herself like this. They aren't happy, they are trying their best to pretend they are, with those fake smiles, and fake pride.

They are doing this because they don't have a choice, her father wouldn't accept it if they weren't what he considers proper.

Klaus is the only one who actually looks distressed. He keeps looking around as if he's seeing things no one else does and she wonders what it's like. He has been cursed, he's heard him say that before although her father would say he's been blessed.

It's one of those things, that she thinks is like a double-edged knife. He has a love-hate relationship with his powers, on one hand, it brought him together with his family, and on the other hand, it tortures him.

She can't hear anything that's being said, nor does she really understand the game, at all, but as long as they are content who cares? It's concerning though, that she can't hear a thing, because there are speakers in this room.

For some odd reason, they aren't turned on.

She looks to her father, wonders if maybe he's thinking the same thing. He watches the game play out, indifference painted on his features. The only thing giving away any semblance of emotion is how hard he's gripping his cane.

"Ben will pursue him due to a combination of loyalty and concern," her father kept on with his first train of thought. She just nods again, leaning her head on his chest as she watches Diego toss up a knife and catch it. 

Her eyes feel puffy, she doesn't really know if they are or if it's just from crying so much.

She looks to her left, at that little boy, and her heart shrivels up inside her chest. The man beside him is touching him, and although the boy isn't screaming or fighting, she knows it isn't right. 

She wants to help.

She needs to stop that.

She's just an ordinary girl.

she's forced to bite her tongue.

That man must be a bad apple, she thinks. Her father used to say that all the time about Klaus- he's just the rotten apple in a basket of good ones, waiting for the right moment to infect the rest. Klaus, for the most part, ignored his words, but she knows that he did feel guilty for a little bit, believing their father's word as truth.

"Then Two will follow behind, after receiving a scolding from One-who at the moment is unaware of their little scheme."

She nods again, closing her eyes as she listens to his beat beating, steady, and calm inside of his chest.

"Then Five will join in, seeing this as an opportunity to be a disobedient brat." She keeps her eyes close, and takes in even breaths. "Three will follow, bringing her maternal worrying, and One will be forced to bow to her otherworldly nature." Her father hums, his heartbeat still this calm and steady noise that helps calm her.

"They want to run away with you," he said, and she opens her eyes, tilts her head up at him wondering if she heard what she thinks she did. "They think you need saving," he drawled on, a fire burning in his eyes. 

She turns back to the stage just in time to watch Klaus walk off stage, Ben immediately trails behind.

She feels her heart dying.

They can't do this.

They can’t kick away her father’s dice when he’s so close to seeing the outcome.

She tilts her head to her left again, the boy has his eyes closed as if he's trying so hard to imagine he's somewhere else. Tears prick her eyes and she has to look away. She's letting that happen, her father is letting that happen.

She isn't a hero.

She doesn't have any mysterious powers.

She's just a weak child who still requires her father's guidance.

Diego follows, tries to but has to stop because Luther yelled at him. Diego says something back and keeps going. Something gleams in Five's eyes and he follows suit. Allison starts to, because she's concerned, and then Luther yells at her too.

Allison says something to him.

Now they are both walking off stage.

The host makes a joke and tells the crowd not to worry.

Her father knew they were going to pull this, he knew and yet he didn't try and curve this behavior. He didn't beat them until they were too scared to, and he didn't just leave them at home.

He needed this for his plan.

Her father stands, and he extends his hand towards her, which she takes. He pulls her through this sea of men, one of which she hopes she never has the pleasure of meeting again.

The fleshly organ in her chest cries, blood pours in her insides as it tells her that she abandoned that little boy.

————————————————————

"It's a crackerjack affair," her father went on, shaking his head as they walked. "I've never quite understood the concept of running away as a whole. They are going to bring about their own homelessness to upset me?" 

He just shakes his head again.

She imagines him getting a kick out of seeing his children groveling on the streets.

"Seven Six Three Four," her father said, but the numbers meant nothing to her. She's just confused by his words.

They start seeing her siblings, all standing together, talking, formulating a plan as they wait for them to arrive. They turn to look at them with a fierceness behind their eyes as she feels her world crumble around her.

It's all her fault.

She doesn't want to run away.

She doesn't want to be the reason they are tortured.

Her siblings don't care what she wants.

Five teleports beside her, grasping her hand pulling. Her father pushes something sharp in her palm and she grasps it before he lets go. Just letting go, he didn't hold on tighter or scold his children.

Five pulls her along to an exit which her siblings have already gone through. She turns around watches her father turn around to go out on to the stage, to try and save a little face.

He knows they are going.

He isn't worried.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up as she holds on tighter to the object in her hand.

This is all part of his plan.

————————————————————

Cars zoom past as they walk, where are they going? She has no clue, nobody has informed her of any plan yet if there even is one.

'Grab Vanya and run' is about the only plan she can think of although her siblings had to have thought of more right? Every step that she takes she fears that there wasn't more.

Five holds her hand, tightly, and it feels gross, she hadn't realized that holding hands for long periods of time could cause sweating. It does, her palms feel sticky, and she wants to pull away but she doesn't.

They are in the back, her and Five, avoiding all the yelling.

"If you would have just stayed quiet this would have been less complicated," her brother said, grasping her hand even tighter, and she can feel that his hand isn't sweaty.

He's composed.

He's always composed.

She just keeps walking, burning pain telling her that she should have just stayed, she feels so much better while she's sitting. She looks in her other palm, at the sharp object her father had given her and freezes.

It's a card, but not just any card-it's a credit card. It's money, it's something she had never been allowed to even hold before, and yet her father had just handed it to her like that.

She looks back up, at her crowd of siblings whose yelling just seems to keep getting louder. Everyone thinks they should do this- helping her- in their own way.

Klaus says that there's nothing they can do except give her love.

Diego says that the police should handle this.

Luther says that they should just leave this to him- like the fearless leader he is.

Allison says that everyone is overreacting.

Ben is trying to keep his siblings on the same side.

She can feel the way Five wants to join the conversation, but he doesn't, he's too busy keeping her together. 

She sighs, wishing everyone would just accept this. That she's already filthy and broken beyond repair.

This burning aching, and this gross sensation inside of her, the one that keeps pushing and prodding when all she wants to do is forget.

Sperm is inside of her.

It came from one of them, her own brothers, and that thought makes everything worse.

What if she starts to grow a baby? The thought hits her, makes her feet stop working, and Five stops while he tilts his head at her.

She presses a hand on her belly, just feeling the softness of her stomach, and she wants to throw up. She wishes she could because she feels sick and all she can think is that she doesn't want a baby. She isn't ready, she's so young, she doesn't even think she'd want a baby in ten years let alone one now.

Not to mention, that its father would be one of her own siblings.

That thought makes bile shoot up her throat, which she swallows before she continues walking. She can't tell her siblings, she can't throw this on them right now. It'd break their heart because one of them would know that it was them who had aided her father in something so horrible.

"Are you feeling alright? We can stop if you need to rest," Five says but she shakes her head.

She needs to keep her head on straight.

————————————————————

They are still arguing, and she stops, gestures to a mini-mart. Klaus throws a hand around her shoulder and pushes her inside while Five picks this time to join the conversation.

"Don't worry about that mess, they'll sort it out," Klaus says, walking inside and raiding a shelf of its unhealthy snacks. She can imagine her father now, telling them that no child should intake any of these substances.

She looks at the shelf, scared to take anything. She hasn't ever been allowed to eat anything here, no sweets, no sugars, no chips. She feels like as soon as she grabs something, like that little chocolate bar her father is going to pop out of nowhere and yell at her.

She takes it anyway, feeling this new sense of freedom fall over her. As if the short leash her father keeps her on has been lengthened, even if just a little. It feels so good.

She looks outside the big windows and watches as Luther and Diego argue. It looks as if they might start to fight, and that worries her, a lot.

Luther says they should do it his way. He insists there's some reason behind the madness, like with their training, although it seems horrifying there's always some reason. Their father would never do what he's done if it hadn't been necessary Luther drawls on.

Diego says it's bullshit, that this is completely different from their training. She's ordinary, she is never trained, and even if their father had for some reason decided he would train her this isn't how he would do it. He insists with a passion that there is no reason, nothing their father could possibly say to justify his actions.

Allison supports Luther, not surprising in the least, despite tagging along on this little escape she still doesn't believe her, or at least not fully. 

Ben stays in the middle, doesn't agree fully with either side, instead he's trying to get them to see common ground. "Helping Vanya should be the number one priority," he says pressing a hand against Luther's chest, and his other hand against Diego's chest.

Five leans on Diego's side, although he agrees that there was a reason, some bigger picture, but he believes it to be more sinister than Luther does.

She frowns at them through the glass, and Klaus presses a hand on her shoulder. 

"Don't worry so much, they'll come around." She nods as she brings up her things to the cashier, and her brother just stares at her for a moment, like she's crazy. She would never accuse him of this, but he really looked like he had intended on stealing the junk food in his hands.

He comes up to stand beside her and dumps the food on the counter.

The cashier scans each item, chips, candy, and her chocolate bar. The total is thirteen dollars, and for a moment she just stares at the junk food, wondering if it was really worth it.

She swiped the card, Klaus chuckles.

"Did you steal that?" He asks, and although she wants to tell the truth, say that her father had handed it to her, she doesn't. He'd know then, know that her father expected this, her father factored this into his plan.

She nods, he grins, almost looking proud of her.

"Aren't you full of surprises," her brother jokes, slapping a hand on her neck, touching beside that clearly visible bite mark, and her heart decides to stop working.

"Like this," he said rubs a palm across that bite mark, feeling each indent with his fingertips. She leans back, brushes his hands off, and grabs the card while he grabs the bags.

She'd say he is full of surprises too if her voice box started working any time soon. He's stopped shaking entirely, there are no more little mumbles or twitches.

He was faking it wasn't he?

Why would he do that?

Why would he make her think that her father broke his promise? He probably doesn't even know there was one- a promise, a deal.

They start, she stares at him, distrust on her tongue, but she stays silent.

He leans his head up, cracks his neck, and then laughs sadly.

"It's nice to have the whole family together for once," he laughs, she opens the door, and as soon as they're outside he reaches in the bag and chucks an article of food at each of their siblings.

They catch them, stare at them for a moment, before deciding to put the fighting on the back burner while she watches.

These people who claim to care about her, who feel as if they need to protect her, never even asked what she wants to do.

————————————————————

She eats her chocolate bar as they walk, her hands growing increasingly more sticky because she's more interested in holding it than eating it. It's majestic she thinks, and she can't get over how delicious it is.

She's been missing out on it her entire life.

Allison stops in front of her, unexpectedly, and as a result, she bumps into her. To avoid accidentally smearing the chocolate on her shirt she drops the bar entirely.

She stares as it lands on the road, becoming one with the littered streets. Tears prick her eyes as she mourns the loss of her chocolate bar.

Allison gives a smirk.

She frowns even harder.

————————————————————

A hotel stands before them and Klaus suggests they spend the rest of their life here. Luther says no-but a day or two will be good to sort out their plan.

The man at the front desk took one look at them and said no. It mattered little when Allison leans up on her tippy toes and whispered something in his ear. Afterward, he took the credit card without a problem, swiped it, and gave them a key.

Room 209

She sighs, wonders if it'd be weird to ask why they didn't get separate rooms, but she doesn't. Her siblings are used to each other, she isn't. She is developing trust issues, she's afraid of waking at night to someone touching her, or someone deciding that they'll want to stick their rod inside too.

These are crazy thoughts.

These are her siblings they would never.

But she used to think that about her father too, so despite how much she loves them, she can't trust them completely. Klaus lied, he pretended like he was withering away when he wasn't. Allison wants her head, and her heart smashed in a billion pieces. Five still claims that she would have been better off being silent. Luther believes her father has a logical reason behind his actions. Diego says that the police are supposed to handle things like this. Ben tries to be the middle man between them all.

It's hard, this is hard, she wishes she would have never opened up her mouth.

————————————————————

She walks past the two king beds, dressed up in shades of red. She walks past the small mini fridge that Klaus had immediately discovered contained alcohol. She ignored all of that in favor of stealing the bathroom.

She steps inside, shuts the door, and strips off her clothes, hearing occasional rips as she struggles. 

She needs to get clean.

She steps into the tubs, sits down, and rubs a finger inside herself. Emptying her insides of any remains of that vile, disgusting substance that her father had referred to as sperm like it was nothing.

She scrapes her dull nails again and again along her inner walls, knowing that she's causing more harm than good but she can't stop herself.

What if she really grows a baby?

What is she supposed to do then?

What would her father even get out of that?

She throws her head in her knees and takes deep breathes as she pulls out her fingers, lightly covered with speckles of blood. 

She turns a knob, steaming hot water pours into the tub, surrounding her body, and making her bite her lips to refrain from letting out noises of pain. The water raises, she continues to sit in the white porcelain tub, wishing she was just at her house, in her bed, dreaming this up.

It's all her fault her family is falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try my hand at manufactured tension/diverting the readers attention. Which I don’t know how I really feel about all that. I’ll probably end up merging this chapter with the last one.
> 
> Anyway alot of struggle, angsty comfort is coming up but at least it’s comfort.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allison is driving me into depression. This chapter was supposed to have more comfort and less angst but what am I supposed to do with that girl? At the moment I’m in the mood to write shorter chapters but know at some point most of these will be merged together.
> 
> Anyway in about two chapters give or take, you’ll probably hate Reginald more, which I know is crazy. I’m warning you in advance, you are welcome.

Klaus twirls a bottle of some sort of dark alcohol around between his fingers, he tips his head back as he downs a big gulp. He lets a satisfied sigh leave his mouth before offering the bottle to her.

She shakes her head, curling up underneath the covers, as she tries to ignore the way her body is consuming her brother's body heat. It makes her uncomfortable, how hot, and sticky this is making her. On one side of her is Klaus and the other side is Ben, both radiating heat, and making her feel like she's suffocating.

Deja vu overcomes her and makes this situation even worse.

She's never had the pleasure of experiencing sleepovers, nobody ever wanted her to sleep with them. Her father however, broke her in, and now she's uninterested in sharing beds with them anymore even though she used to want to.

It's a scary experience, having someone touch your leg, or breathe down your neck, even if it's unintentional.

"Come on Vanya it'll make you feel better," he coos, taking another sip as his cheeks begin to gain a pinkish tone. She shakes her head again, and he stops asking.

Ben sits on the other side of her, a book in his lap, and a frown on his face. He's realized that no matter how hard he tries, he'll never be the middle man her siblings want. So he's given up and has instead decided to lay down and go to sleep, eventually.

She's being forced to share a bed with them, which is fine compared to the alternative of sharing a bed that houses Allison. Luther took a couch, clearly not meant for sleeping. Diego, Five, and Allison took the other bed. 

She refuses to sleep next to Allison.

So this is fine, she's going to be fine.

Nobody is going to touch her.

Klaus takes another drink, greedily gulping it down as if he was a man in a desert and the alcohol was water.

————————————————————

She awakens to the darkness, deep breaths and occasional snores fill her ears. She blinks, Ben turns around behind her, and Klaus is on his knees, a hand poking her cheek.

"Hey," he mumbles, poking again, and she swats at his hand. "Come on get up!" He said, a little too loud, and her head starts to pound.

She rubs a hand down her face before sitting up. He grabs her hand, pulls softly, the bottle of alcohol nearly empty in his opposite hand.

"Vanya," he said, but it sounds drawn out, and he pulls a little more. She starts to follow, she rubs her eyes, grogginess overcoming her senses.

"Look," he hiccups, "look at those," he brings her to a window, opening the curtains, and pointing at the night sky. "Those are pretty lights," he says, points at the stars in wonder.

She nods as he opens up the windows, letting in a terribly cold breeze.

He braces himself against the window and leans out, enjoying the cold, and no doubt sobering air. He hums, stares up at the night sky before sitting down on the floor in front of the window, leaning his head back, and closing his eyes.

She sits down beside him, looking at her sleeping siblings, who all look so peaceful. She doesn't think she'll ever sleep as peacefully as she once did before. She just can't, she has too many fears, her anxiety has so much more to warn her about now.

"Sometimes I wish I was born crazy," he said, his words slurring together, and his eyes shooting open. He laughs, brings his hand up to stifle the laughter. "Doesn't it sound good? To be crazy?"

She blinks, and he hits her lightly on her chest.

"I'm probably a breed of crazy but it's not the kind I wanna be." He smiles, moving the hand on her chest to rub at the bite mark on her neck. "Just imagine you're crazy, the kind of crazy that you don't care about the rest of the world nor the consequences that follow. You listen to voices in your head while building your cardboard box home in a dirty alleyway without any worry." He rubs the mark, a frown slowly overcoming his features.

"This is deep," he said, rubs each indent which burns when touched. “No matter what they decide to do, police or not, you are going to need a boatload of therapy but who here doesn't? We can have group therapy sessions, it'll be lots of fun."

She doesn't smile.

He's right, they could all use therapy, she's just being selfish. They need to worry about themselves, about the torture they've gone through, about the training they've had to endure. 

Why are they doing this for her? She's no different from them, they've all been abused, and yet somehow they treat it as if it's a different case. It isn't, and she doesn't like knowing how self-centered she's being.

Why didn't they run away a few months ago when Klaus came back covered in dirt, sobbing his eyes out, and the smell of rotting flesh on his skin? Why hadn't they decided, then and there, that it was enough? Why had they just overlooked it? Why had she done the same?

It's because they couldn't, there wouldn't be a point to trying to run away. Their only real hope, the one they've all been secretly working towards, is their eighteen birthday, although there's actually no real reason to believe that'll be enough to save them.

Either way, her siblings have lost their minds, they all must have decided they wanted to die because her father is going to be so angry when he comes for them.

He downs the last of the bottle, before dropping it on the floor, it rolls away with a glass crackling sound. He wraps a hand around her, hugging her, and humming something as he pushes her to lay her head in his lap, facing him.

"You should sleep," he mumbles, humming once again as he imagines his life if he was crazy.

She closes her eyes.

————————————————————

She isn't sure she even slept, but nonetheless, she opens her eyes, more awake as light pours inside the room. She flips around, to face the rest of the room, and she freezes.

She knows she slept now.

Allison sits on a small armchair beside the couch Luther is sleeping on. She flips through a clothes catalog while she's wearing one of those fluffy robes from the bathroom. She must have taken a shower but that doesn't unnerve her. It's the fact that from the floor, she can clearly see that her sister decided not to put on anything underneath it.

She flushes red, and flips back around to face her brother, she didn't need to see that. She never wanted to see that, her sister must be crazy. Klaus could probably see it too if he decides to wake up soon.

She frowns, rubs her legs together as she remembers it. That thing between her sister's legs makes her feel so filthy because she knows that her sister is pure, untouched. There isn't a scratch on that body, but hers is littered with disgusting bruises.

She is a disgusting excuse for a woman.

No one will ever love her now.

She wishes she could be more like her sister, her perfect, beautiful sister, who always drowns herself in sweet-smelling perfume. She has developed into such an extraordinary woman, hasn't she?

A green heinous substance fills up her chest, she refers to it as bitterness, but some part of her recognizes the aching of her heart as jealously.

She knows she'll never be her sister.

At this point, she's better off going back to her father and begging for his forgiveness. She wants to go home, she wants to make sure her siblings are safe. 

They can't run forever. Her father will come for them or they'll go back to him.

Klaus is drooling, it's starting to drip down his chin. She watches it, content, trying her hardest to forget all the things going through her mind. Like her sister, her only sister, believing that all she wants is attention and the way her father has touched her was all just peachy.

She shivers, her back aching from sleeping like this, but she couldn't leave Klaus here. She didn't want him to wake up and her be gone, even if she only moved a few feet away. Panic isn't a nice feeling, she doesn't like to be left alone, so she refused to do that to him.

A palm presses against her back, her naked back because her shirt has ridden up while she slept. She flinches as the simple sensation makes her lungs stop constricting, she can't breathe. No oxygen reaches her and she stays deathly still.

The hand pulls her shirt down.

She takes in a deep breath, finally able to breathe again.

"Geez," Diego says, giving her a harmless pat before standing. "I'm not that scary-" he says something else after that, but she doesn't catch it. He walks off, into the bathroom, and she feels bad.

He doesn't understand, it isn't like she's on edge because she wants to be. She wasn't scared of him, she was scared of the phantom that was, her father still looms in her mind. 

She's never going to be free of him.

Luther groans, the couch does the same underneath him as he rolls over. She turns back, looks at him, his eyes focusing on Allison. On the way water droplets fall from her bun before running down her neck, the way the robe dips down, opening just a little too much on her chest, and the way that she flips through the magazine like she doesn't have a care in the world.

She wonders if this is normal, the way she's so comfortable here as if the majority of the population wasn't made up of boys. Maybe if she spent more time with them she'd be able to relax like her sister does.

She turns back around to face Klaus, whose head is drooping in such a way that looks uncomfortable. She wants to move it, fix it so he doesn't hurt his neck, but she doesn't want to disrupt his sleep so she only watches, and imagines the pain he'll have when he gets up.

————————————————————

She was right of course.

Klaus rubs his neck and scrunches up his nose in pain. He licks his lips and the drool traveling down his chin which makes her cringe. It seems like a gross thing to do, although it probably isn't to him.

"Well this sucks," he mumbles while his other hand is placed against his forehead, bracing his pounding head. She imagines he's suffering from a hangover, but she's not going to ask him to confirm her suspicions.

Ben yawns, stretches his hands above his head, he leans over and stares at them weirdly. She feels the need to justify why they are on the floor and not in bed with him. She'd never want him to think that she's scared of him, at least not because he occasionally has tentacles coming out of his chest.

Five taps his fingers against his pants with one hand while rubbing his face with the other, continually overthinking something. He is always thinking, planning, and calculating something since he's developed the mindset that if he wants something done he has to do it himself. The mindset is definitely due to her father's influence, but a good half of it is due to his own stubbornness.

"Up," Klaus said, tapping on her shoulder, it took her a minute to sit up. Her brain isn't functioning but it's getting there. Klaus rubs his neck again, and the bathroom door opens.

Diego comes out along with a gust of steam. He stands still for a moment, just enjoying the peace before Klaus walks by him to steal the bathroom.

Diego dries his hair with a towel.

She hears beeping.

Allison starts talking, into a phone, while looking at a piece of paper. It takes a full moment of mumbled words to realize that she's ordering breakfast for everyone. 

Luther has a hand over his mouth, eyes closed as he sits unnaturally still on the couch. Diego sits down beside him, leaning his head on the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling.

It's a tense atmosphere, one in which she really doesn't want to be in. Yet, she thinks out of everyone she's probably the calmest.

She should be thinking about their next move but she isn't. Is there a point when her siblings don't care about her opinion? Besides, she isn't entirely sure anymore she wants to be saved. 

She wanted to be so much, but now it makes her scared. She doesn't want to talk about what happened in any detail, she doesn't want to let anyone see her bruises, she hopes that her father isn't mad at her.

She hears silence, everyone has a different air around them, they all have their own selfish reasons for doing what they're doing.

She can't judge them, after all, she's being equally selfish, isn't she?

————————————————————

"Child rape- One of the most heinous crimes man has ever committed," Five said, taking a bite out of his omelet before she does the same. She chews slowly, the topic of conversation has ruined any hunger she had once had. "To think those words were once said by dad himself," he took another bite.

Diego makes a noise of agreement while he sips on his orange juice before putting it on the coffee table. He, along with Luther and Allison take the couches while herself, Five, Klaus, and Ben sit on the floor around the coffee table. The ground is carpeted, so it isn't terrible to sit on, at least compared to the hard wooden chairs they usually do.

"Is it ironic or hypocritical?" Klaus said while chewing on a hash brown.

"Does it matter?" Diego licks his lips free of orange juice.

"Of course it does," Klaus points at him with his fork as he talks. "Did dad always have a thing for kids, or was a recent development? If it's the former the statement he made is hypocritical, if it's the latter it is ironic."

"You are thinking way too hard about this," Allison chimes in before she drinks some of her orange juice.

"Maybe," he shrugs finishing His omelet in one final bite. Ben nods while he nibbles on his omelets.

Luther stays silent, still battling within himself how much all that fidelity he's developed for his father is worth. He wants to believe their father is a good man, she understands, somehow she often finds herself doing the same exact thing even though the rational part of her knows he isn't.

————————————————————

Ben picks the bottle off the floor, so it doesn't accidentally cause someone to trip. He sits it on the coffee table, the place she has set her head on, in the poor hopes to give herself some room to think.

No real thought processing is going on, but she doesn't have anything else to do.

Nobody is doing much of anything.

Five is scribbling on a hotel provided todo list paper. Ben is reading a book, with Klaus beside him, looking over his shoulder, and making rather saucy comments about the reading material. Diego is talking to Five but is mostly off in his own world. Luther sits on the couch, looking like he wants to die.

They are sulking. 

As soon as someone suggests let's do this or that, it starts a debate since no one can agree. Five is right, this would have been less complicated  
if she stayed quiet.

At this rate, they'll just be going back home. In her opinion the faster the better because for one she needs her anxiety medication, and two she needs to apologize to her father, even though he hates when she does. He can yell at her and tell her she's stupid for doing so but it won't change her. 

This is just how she is.

As her father would say, 'you can't make a rock bleed.' Although her father has found ways of doing so before so it's practically null and void now.

Allison comes out of the bathroom, her hair dried, and her body clothed. Her sister looks upon her like she's a disease, a vile disgusting piece of attention-seeking garbage. It hurts, thorns pierce all of her organs while a vine wraps around her heart and squeezes.

She looks away.

Allison sits beside Luther, a flicker of heat reflects in her eyes.

That look sends flashing red flags in her mind.

Luther doesn't look at Allison, he just grabs his hair, roughly, and pulls as if he's fighting with himself. She wants to tell him to stop, that he shouldn't do that, but she finds herself paralyzed with fear from her sister's presence.

Allison presses a hand on Luther's neck, rubbing the skin, and then she leans into him and starts to say something.

That vine on her heart squeezes harder, blood squirts inside her chest, coating her walls a darkened red.

"I heard a rumor you-"

Diego shoves a hand over her mouth, harshly, a noise of mumbled pain leaves her. He seemly popped out of nowhere, which is concerning, she didn't think he was listening.

"It's not the time for your witchcraft," he said, and she brings her hand up to dig at his hand, which forces him to let go. She stands, opens her mouth, and then an argument breaks out. Five adds his two cents, then Ben, and Klaus just tilts his head at the whole thing.

Luther hasn't moved, he just shoves his head deeper into his hands while the yelling gets louder.

She isn't listening.

Her heart is thumping out of control.

Her sister was about to rumor Luther into to doing something undoubtedly bad. It was so horrifying to watch and to make matters worse for a moment it seemed like everything was going in slow motion.

'I heard a rumor you...'

The words keep repeating, over and over again the way she said them as if she infused her own personal poison in the words. That was as close as she ever wants to get to witnessing her sisters powers.

Her hands are shaking, her heart's thumping keeps getting louder with each passing second, and the room is starting to spin, or maybe she is. It's hard to tell anymore when she has to breathe so hard for air because her lungs have forgotten how to function.

A hand is placed on her back, patting, rubbing, and Klaus smiles at her.

"Let's go for a walk," his voice a sweet, calming melody. A walk is good, she needs a walk to clear her mind, and to stop it from panicking. She nods, and he helps her up with a hand on her shoulder and leads her out of the room. 

As she gets to the door, she turns around, looks past Klaus, to Allison who has started to tear up. Little clear pearls roll down her cheek, leaving behind a wet residue that makes everyone else calm down, to take a step backward because they think they've pushed too hard, even though Allison was going to abuse her powers.

Even though Allison made her so upset.

If her father was here he would refer to those pearls as crocodile tears.

Klaus pushes on her to keep going, and when she's in the hall he shuts the door behind them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bit that’s in italics is a small flashback. The flashback and the present is separated by //.
> 
> In any case Klaus is great person when he needs to be :3
> 
> A little forewarning: although this fic will have a bittersweet ending eventually, it will not be the typical happy ending and it will probably break your heart. It makes me sad and I haven’t even written it yet.

_“Rome wasn't built in a day dear," her mother said as she wiped away her tears. "You mustn't forget that nothing comes learned, you will need to be taught and there's nothing wrong with that," she rubs her cheek, softly, and smiles._

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_She holds her violin against her chest, it groans from how hard she's gripping it. She wants to be special, she wants to be good at something, she needs to be._

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_Why is playing the violin so difficult?_

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_"Rome wasn't built in a day, say it with me."_

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_"Rome wasn't built in a day," she repeated as her cheeks cooling and her grip lightened. "Right," she took a deep breath._

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_Her mother Kisses her forehead._

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————————————————————

_She liked that phrase, kept repeating it again and again in her mind as she held a clipboard against her chest._

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_‘Rome wasn't built in a day'_

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_She's supposed to be writing down who is the victor of her siblings sparing matches but she's been so distracted that she hasn't been._

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_Her father looks at her with displeasure, and she freezes. She writes down a bunch of names, hoping, praying he doesn't know that she wasn't paying attention._

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_He'd give her hell if he knew._

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_He looks away, back at her siblings, and she sighs. Her shoulder drooping down, her breaths easy._

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_"Do you have something you'd like to say?" He asks, not looking at her, his eyes focused on Allison who has overpowered Klaus._

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_“No," she whispers, writes down that Allison won that fight._

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_“Yes, you do."_

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_“No," she repeats and he looks at her, really looks at her like 'do you really want to do this' and she doesn't. That look tells her everything she needs to know._

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_"I was just wondering," she takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Why must they be forced to work so hard? Isn't it true that Rome wasn't built in a day?" She wonders if she sounds stupid, but her father does look at her for a moment like he's thinking._

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_He frowns as his eyes move to focus on Diego and Five fighting. "True as that may be," Diego holds a knife to Five's throat, it only takes Five a moment to disarm him. A simple movement of his hand was all it took, he's well trained. "All it took was a single day for Rome to meet it’s end."_

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_Diego trips Five while he was doing that fancy disarming trick. He lands on his butt and glares before teleporting away. To regroup, to replan, to come back with revenge._

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///////////////////////////////////// 

"Daddy's birthday is coming up," Klaus practically screamed to the heavens aka the hallways, which caused his voice to echo. He's been talking nonstop since they started on this walk, but none of his words had computed until now.

They all just read as blank error messages in her mind.

She tilts her head, at the ceiling, staring at the way some of it sinks at certain wet spots. It isn't supposed to do that, the more she looks the more she realizes it looks like it might cave in. 

"Is it?" She finally replies after looking away from the ceiling and into the back of his head. His hair is getting long, it's starting to actually show some curly puffs. If her father saw that he'd cut it because short hair looks more professional.

"Yeah," he said as he raised his hands to graze along the low setting ceiling. Each bump he hit, each time his fingers pressed along a damned area makes her heart rate rise. It isn't safe, but he doesn't seem to care. "Don't worry I forgot too," his fingertips gently prod at a wet spot for a moment too long.

She shakes her head, looks away while telling herself that she's being dramatic. She hasn't had her anxiety pills so her mind it's out of control right now, adding in her sister and it's a complete wreck inside.

"I didn't realize it was coming up," she said, half absentmindedly as she tries her best not to focus on the ceiling.

"Me either, it's not like we celebrate it." 

She hums, runs her hands across her own neck, feeling that bite mark. It's true, they don't celebrate their father's birthday, mainly because he'd always had some personal vendetta against it, but it is still an important day nonetheless.

The thought doesn't make her uncomfortable, just like talking about her father doesn't bring about that feeling. It's only when a talk containing him is drawn out, and she's left too long to remember that he's just supposed to be her father, nothing more.

Except now he's touched her, he's forced himself inside of her and made her bleed. He did such a terrible thing and it just feels so wrong. She wishes he were just a stranger, so she could blame him for everything, so she could rub his name in the dirt and curse the day he was born.

Except he's her father so she can't.

She has these tightly knitted knots of loyalty, love, and trust for him. Even if he's taken a knife to the knot, even if he's snapped it in half, the two halves are still there, still made of the same material even when separated. 

She can't escape it, she can't run away from the truth that he is her father.

Yet, some part of her wishes she could.

She's gullible and naive, it must be all her fault. She did something that made him want to touch her, she must have because otherwise, he would never.

He told her awhile ago, that she didn't need to defend his actions, but no matter how hard she tries she can't stop.

She's sorry.

She's so sorry.

The tears prick her eyes, they don't fall but they blur her vision. She wipes them away, again and again.

"Sorry," he says as he stops walking. He gives her a sad smile like she's hurting him. He takes a step towards her, extends his hand so that he can place it on her cheek, in a motion he believes is supposed to be comforting.

She moves away, backs up a few steps before she even realizes that she's moving.

He doesn't walk towards her, just drops his hands by his side, his eyes glassed over like he's about to cry. Her heart aches as he takes a step back, giving her distance, then he takes another one.

She watches him leave.

Tears flow down her face, making her cheeks sticky, and the puffiness return to her eyes. She's an idiot, always being so selfish and pushing away everyone who cares about her.

She presses a hand over her mouth, containing some of the sobs she can't control. Then she looks down the hall, looks behind her, and realizes she doesn't know where she is.

She just wants to go home.

Why is she here? Why are they making her stay here when she doesn't want to be? All she wants to do is go home, cuddle up in her bed, and forget about everything. Maybe her father is over it, maybe he's ready to treat her like she's garbage again.

An ordinary useless child is all she used to be and she'd be more than happy to go back to being that if he just treated her like normal.

She shakes, backing up, hitting a wall, and sitting. Her head in her knees, her breathing erratic, and the tears wetting her shirt.

She takes a deep breath, one after another until she feels like she can actually breathe normally again. Then she looks up, jolts back into the wall, her head meeting the drywall with a sickening crack.

Klaus stares at her, he's crouch down on the balls of his feet, balancing as he extends his hand to give her something.

It's a chocolate bar.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought up dad," he said, whispers as he opens the chocolate bar for her. "I was just making conversation," he breaks the bar in half and hands her a half.

She takes it, with her shaky fingers, so warm from the blood flowing through them that the chocolate already begins to melt. She nibbles on it, it's intoxicating sweetness melting on her tongue. She stays silent while he sways on his feet.

"It wasn't that," she croaks, her voice cracking in all different pitches. "It was the touching," it only took a moment for her brother's face to light up with understanding. 

He brings a hand up, slaps it against his forehead, hard, a red mark forming when he lowers it. "That makes so much sense, I'm sorry I'm such an idiot," he moved to sit down on her left side, he starts to eat his half of the chocolate bar.

She shakes her head, knowing that this isn't his fault. He's just trying to help, and he shouldn't feel guilty for doing so.

"I've wanted to apologize for the other day too. When you told me what had happened and I asked you why, as if you would know." She tilts her head back, it aches where she hit it off the wall but compared the pain she's experienced in the last few days it's nothing.

"I've realized that I could have been applying that it was your fault," he takes another bite of his chocolate bar. "I'd never think that, this will never be your fault."

She starts to cry all over again.

"Vanya! No, don't cry!" He eats the rest of the chocolate bar in one bite and raises his hands, wanting to hug her, but not doing so because she told him not to touch her. She wraps a hand around his back and presses her face in his chest.

She cries, she feels...relief? Yes, that's what this feeling is, it's a grand tree of relief sprouting in her chest because somebody told her something she's been longing to hear. 

This isn't her fault.

This will never be her fault.

She keeps repeating these words, hoping that they'll stick, but knowing even if they don't he'll be here to remind her of them again.

It isn't her fault.

————————————————————

They sit together like that until her eyes are all dried up, and her sobs have stopped. The sweet taste of chocolate in her mouth battling with the scent of death that floats through the hallways. A warm fuzziness grows inside of her chest, filling the space around the tree of relief, yet some part of her feels guilty and she can't pinpoint why.

It doesn't make sense but then again nothing has been making sense for a while.

He smiles, his hand around her back, its there because she told him he could. He starts to whistle, it sounds awful, but that's only because of the high pitched noise.

It hurts.

She covers her ears and he stops, doesn't ask any questions but rubs her back in comforting ways.

"Would you do me a favor?" He asks softly as his mouth kept a smile.

She nods.

"Can I wear your skirt?" He places a hand on hers, pleads with big puppy eyes, and for a moment she just looks at them. These are what puppy eyes are supposed to look like, hers are just cheap imitations from his genuine ones.

She nods again.

He grins.

He gestures down the hallway, the one in which he had escaped before. "There's a bathroom down there we can switch in, and a vending machine where as you can imagine I got the chocolate from." He stands, offers her a hand, she takes it.

"I totally got it legally," he said almost as an afterthought and she just giggles.

————————————————————

He faces away from her while she removes her skirt. It feels wrong when she pushes it down her legs, she feels exposed, so exposed yet he isn't looking at her.

He promised he wouldn't.

She promised she wouldn't look at him either but she is.

She's sorry, but she just couldn't do this unless she knows he isn't looking. She doesn't want him to see all of her bruises, and this disgusting thing between her legs, even if it's hidden underneath her underwear.

She hands him her skirt, he holds his pants out to the side for her, never looking back at her. She takes them.

His boxers pure white, and she thinks for a moment, it looks strange. Then she puts her pants on and doesn't think about it again, because she shouldn't. It's none of her business, and she's probably just paranoid anyway.

She slips on the pants, they are snug, and so constricting, not because they are necessarily tight but because she never wears anything other than skirts and loose-fitting pajama bottoms. She feels good, the snugness providing a sense of security.

A good, healthy sense of protection. Now no one can touch her so easily, she has a layer to protect her privates.

She smiles.

He smiles too.

She steps outside while he pulls the skirt up nice and spins around as if he had never experienced such a filling of lightness.

She sits on a bench outside, waiting for him, he'll need a minute. She leans her head back, stares at the ceiling, it's actually looking normal in this area. 

Which is a relief.

She looks down the hallway, sees the check-in. The owner sits behind a desk, flipping through a newspaper. The front says something about the Umbrella Academy.

She looks away, at the vending machine, and then to a poster beside it.

Victim...

She is one, she keeps telling herself this, but it's a new concept and hasn't stuck in her mind like it's supposed to. Instead, her mind goes on a toxic loop, and no matter how hard she pushes the stop button it keeps going.

Her mind continually finds things to think about, her father touching her, and only her, leading her to believe it was her fault. Then the loop keeps going, and she knows that it was wrong, that he shouldn't have touched her, but then that thought process brings her back around to the first.

It's all her fault.

Something about her made him do this.

Something that she did made him flip his morals upside down.

She takes a deep breath and tells herself again that none of this is her fault.

Victim, that's what the poster says that's taped up against the hallway wall outside the bathroom. A young girl stares back at her from the poster, tears in her eyes as a man hovers behind her, smiling a terrible smile. There are a bunch of words scattered behind them both, appearing to be the girl's thoughts.

'I'm dirty'

'I'll never be the same'

'Everything is my fault'

'He told me I was special'

'I know I wasn't'

The bold print at the bottom says 'Have you been a victim of abuse? Speak up!' There is a number underneath it, but it's been scratched off from years of abuse. How ironic, she thinks, before looking away.

The poster makes her uncomfortable.

So she instead thinks about her sister, a subject that makes her just as uneasy as that poster. She tries to tell herself that she was being dramatic, her sister wasn't doing anything wrong.

Her sister probably wanted to make Luther feel better that's all, right? That has to be it, she just misread the whole situation. At least she wishes she could believe that.

The vibe her sister had given off was something she's sure is going to give her nightmares, a good rumor wasn't going to be coming out of that mouth, she's more than sure.

'I heard a rumor you hate Vanya,' that would have killed her. She worked so hard to get Luther on her side that this would have set them back, permanently.

'I heard a rumor you love Vanya,' this would probably hurt just as much as the other rumor since it applies he doesn't love her now.

Or maybe Allison wanted him to love her as her father does.

Her stomach flip flops as she clenches a hand in her pants, firmly, liking how she can barely feel it. Her skirt is so thin that she can always feel her nails digging in her own skin, but now she can't.

She really needs to ask her sister what she can do so that she doesn't hate her anymore.

The bathroom door opens, Klaus walks out, his hair slicked down with water, and a grin on his face as he occasionally ruffles the skirt. "It suits me doesn't it?" He asks, tilting his head, and giving what he thinks is a cute wave.

"Yes..." she says, lowly, smiling, and he frowns.

"What?"

She shakes her head.

"Did you Luther remind you?" She asks and he has a blank look on his face. "Of father's birthday?" She elaborates and he looks away.

"No, dad did." He rubs his neck, her eyes follow that movement. "I asked him where he got the bite mark on his neck from, and he turned to me all seriously and told me that it was an early birthday gift...from you."

She doesn't move.

Her feet are stuck in cement, it slowly crawls up her body, coating her with its fast hardening grey. She is beginning to turn into a statue.

"Of course I didn't believe that but still for a moment it blew my mind," He rubs a little harder, "when he told me it was only the first of many."

She flinches when he drops his hand, and looks at her all seriously. "Let's go back," he said, turns and starts to walk, she doesn't move.

she hears a familiar voice talking, she'd know it anywhere, it haunts her dreams and nightmares.

It's her father's voice.

She turns around, peers at the front desk, seeing her father all dressed up and proper talking to the man who owned the place. The cement on her feet melts.

"Hurry up," her brother said, not turning to look at her.

"I..." she starts but stops.

Her feet move, take one step towards her father, as she stares at him. She just wants to go home, she needs to beg for his forgiveness and tell him this is all her fault. At least it all her fault her siblings decided to run away. If she confesses, tells him with the sincerest voice she can manage, he won't beat them.

He'll only beat her.

That's right.

That's okay.

It isn't okay.

She takes a couple steps back before running, grasping her brother's hand, and pulling him along.

"What?" He says, looks like he might protest but doesn't.

She keeps yanking.

————————————————————

It's still a tense atmosphere when they get back.

Ben is angrily reading a book if that is even a thing.

Allison has her hands crossed against her chest, pouting. 

Diego plays with a knife on his bed, a look on his face screaming that he doesn't think he was out of line.

Luther still has his head in his palm, she's afraid that he hasn't moved since they left. She hopes he's going to be okay because she could really use him.

Five has the credit card, spinning in his hand, examining it. "Aren't these things traceable?" He says, and nobody responds except Klaus.

"Who cares? He'd know where we are anyway, he always does." He walks with the newly provided confidence a skirt provides.

Nobody knows but her of the storm that's coming, and she doesn't want to tell them. Her chest hurts, she backs up against the door, feeling it's handle with her hand. She's going to open it and run, yes, she's the only one her father wants.

She can do this.

She grasps the handle, turning it slowly.

She can do this.

There's a knock on the door, she lets go of the handle and turns around while she walks backward. He's here, she can't run away, but she feels the need to.

"I'll get it," Klaus said swinging his hips causing the skirt to jump up in all the ways she was taught to never let happen.

"NO!" She screamed, let the word leave her damaged throat, she grasps his hand, and holds on tightly digging her nails into his skin, as deep as she could because she has to stop him.

She has to protect him.

He yelps, tries to rip away his hand, and that forces her nails to dig a deep line down his wrist. Blood starts to bubble at the surface, and she lets go.

It's all her fault.

She's always hurting the people around her.

He holds his hand against himself, blood dripping down his arm. She raises a hand, wanting to apologize, but he backs away.

"Why would you do that?" It's Diego, he's angry at her. She shakes, her breathing starting to become uneven as she struggles to take in the appropriate amount of oxygen.

"Vanya..." Klaus said almost like a question as he holds a hand over the wounds she inflicted on him, trying to stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry," she says, takes a step back towards a wall.

"Let me see," Allison stand and walks over to Klaus to examine his wrist, he lets her see it.

Another knock sounds.

It sounds so loud in her ears, echoing inside, burrowing inside of her brain until she can't stand the sound.

It happens again, but louder as her siblings start to yell at her.

"Why would you do that?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"After all he's done for you?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Is there something wrong with you?"

She can't take it.

It's all too much, too loud, the knocks, and these words force her into a corner of the room. She keeps praying, she keeps saying sorry, she keeps trying to stop the noise.

"It's all your fault!"

She snaps.

She doesn't know what snaps, but something did. It was the lights, they went first, a pop, then another, and another until the room was plunged into darkness.

Then she huddled in the corner, pressing her head against the wall, as tears pour down her face. She hears banging, she hears someone yell, ripping sounds project around the room.

She doesn't look back, she doesn't stop until a hand is pressed on her head. Her heart calms down, she trembles, crying so hard because it's all her fault and they're right. 

She ruins everything.

Even this, this earthquake is all her fault, it must be. Bad things follow her, they should all leave her alone.

"I'm sorry," she sobs, turning around and burying herself in the chest of this person. It only takes her a mere moment, just one moment of her face pressed to his chest to know it is her father. His smell so calming despite everything, and all she does is cry.

Because she's scared.

Because she's ruined everything.

Because she needs to beg for his forgiveness.

She cries into his chest, her sobs the only sound she hears. 

It's so quiet that she's sure all her siblings have died, yes, they must have. She holds her breath as she looks around him, only for a moment and she sees them.

They look at her as if she was a monster as if she was the one to have caused this chaos. The beds have been turned apart, the couches ripped up, glass litters the floor. Ben holds his arm, and Allison has a scratch on her cheek from something.

It was an earthquake.

They can't blame her for this too.

She sobs even harder into her father's chest, as her siblings just keep looking around the room before looking her like she has just grown fangs and is trying to drink their blood.

This isn't her fault.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers in her ear, a hand rubbing along her back. "You've finally become extraordinary," he said, softly, and slowly so that she didn't miss a word.

Her heartbeat drops, completely stops for a whole minute while she kept replaying his words in her mind.

...

Did she really do this?

Is this really her fault?

Why are the tears running down her face even heavier? She is supposed to be overjoyed, all she's ever wanted was to be extraordinary, and now that she is she can't even be happy.

She can't believe it, yet the sincere look on his face makes her.

It's all her fault.

Her siblings are right to look at her like she's a monster.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve rewritten this chapter almost 6 times and I just can’t seem to get the tone right if that makes sense. So I’ll probably come back to this chapter at some point and rewrite it again.
> 
> Anyway, it features Reggie lying his ass off and Five forgetting the art of tact.
> 
> I swear to god this is actually going up hill.

She wonders why she didn't notice it when she first looked at him. His cheek no longer has a bandage on it. There are faded white lines on his cheek, scars from her actions.

She feels guilty.

She feels satisfaction.

She knows, knows that she is messed up. When's the last time she's had a normal thought?

She wishes she could suffer from amnesia because everything is just too much. His soft but eerie exterior just begging for her to give in, accept his love and understanding.

He'd help her through this right? Who else will? Her so call siblings who cower in fear? 

She looks at his eyes, the flames within them lick her body and burn her skin. She is disgusted by him, he's so close that all she can smell is him and she is fighting the urge to cover her nose.

The air that surrounds him is suffocating her.

She leans back as the room spins, the floor moves right out from underneath her as she falls into a homemade cage in her mind. She hates him so much, hates the very thought of him when all he's done is cause her pain.

"Seven?" He whispers, his voice soft like velvet as the air dries her tears. 

This is all wrong. She's an ordinary nuance, nothing more, nothing less. She will never be anything more, how many times has she heard that before?

He's lying to her and it hurts so much.

She isn't really extraordinary.

She doesn't really have any mystical powers.

She is a disgrace who only ever made him happy when she let him use her body.

"You're wrong," she says, scooting back, which while only being a mere centimeter is enough to make her feel better.

"Oh?"

"You're wrong!" She repeats, bringing up a hand and pounding it against his chest, like a small child throwing a tantrum. "You're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong," she repeats the words again and again, until her voice cracks and she has to stop.

She stares down at the floor, her hands still pressed against his chest, and he seems amused with her actions like this is just so fascinating to him, and why wouldn't it be? She's a guinea pig only alive to bow to his whims.

"Why do you say such things?" He places a hand over hers on his chest, she looks up, her eyes puffy and red.

"I'm ordinary and that's all I'll ever be," she laughs as she clenches her hands in his shirt. "This is too cruel father! Why do you hate me?" She leans her head back, her heart is so tired of this.

She laughs sadly again as her father brings a hand up to touch her cheek. She flinches but she can't move away anymore or she would.

His touch is filthy.

"I don't hate you," it's a low whisper as he rubs his cold fingers against her heated skin, she's so embarrassed. "I've always known you would be extraordinary," he whispers rubbing his thumb as he speaks.

"You're a late bloomer and there's nothing wrong with that," he presses his other hand on hers on his chest and squeezes lightly. "I've tried to help the process along, giving you inducers that I'd labeled as anxiety medication," he leans in closer, she closes her eyes, waiting, he doesn't kiss her.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers in her ear and the heat from his words tickle her. "It'll be scary at first but I'll help you through it," he leans back, a soft look on his face, one that's meant to lull her into a false sense of security.

She knows and yet it's drawing her in.

"But," she starts but stops, unable to think of anything more than her siblings who had such bubbling hatred for their father but now do nothing. Maybe they would have if she didn't ruin everything.

If she didn't add another element to this situation that was already terrible.

But she's suddenly so relieved, that he's proud of her, that he's going to help her through it, and most of all that he isn't afraid of her. Her siblings are still quiet like they just can't believe this, believe that she's extraordinary, believe that she's more than the stupid little ordinary nuisance they had to put up with.

She understands, the thought barely computes to her but it does and she feels powerful. Yes, finally she's extraordinary, and he's always known. He's always secretly helped her, had made it his mission to do so because he cared about her.

"Thank you," she said the hand clenching him released and dropped to the ground.

Does this make up for everything else? Is her body the price she had to pay to be extraordinary? It seems like a small one to her.

'It isn't your fault' Klaus's voice echos in her mind.

She shakes that thought out and prays it never returns. Who cares about all that when she's got powers? When she'll finally be able to join the Umbrella Academy because she's special, the same kinda special her siblings are.

Someday they'll be so proud.

"Are you feeling alright?" He prods her with his words.

She shakes her head. How is she supposed to be alright? She's been touched, she's been abused, she's been forced to suffer in silence and now she's learned that she could have prevented all of that? Or better yet the abuse was a price for her powers?

Or maybe the abuse was a small little birthday gift to him, something he believed he was entitled to? She wants to laugh, laugh and cry and scream until she feels better.

She does neither of those things.

He stands up straight, dusting himself off as if he had somehow obtained an unhealthy amount of dirt. He offers her no hand to help her up. It makes her feel weird.

She stands, using the wall to brace herself before trying to grasp him like she's used to doing. Her body craving all of his protective warmth.

He pushes her away and when his eyes fall on her she freezes. The flame flickers brightly in his eyes. She wraps her arms around herself as he snarls, a tone she knows is meant to be a warning.

"Do not hang on me," he looks at her like she's so disgusting. Is she? Has she been so far tainted that there's no way for her to ever be clean?

Is this all his fault? Is it his influence that's tainted her or was it her own stupid heart?

"Why?" She almost croaks and he only gets angrier.

"Do not ask stupid questions," he said turning away from her to look at her siblings. Ben drops his book, it makes a small thud sound as it hits the ground leaving his hands trembling as he pales.

It's silent now except for a light dripping sound coming from the blood running down Klaus's arm, dripping onto the carpet making a red stain. He doesn't seem to care about the blood, all he does is cover his legs as if trying to hide the skirt- a nearly impossible task. 

Each passing moment her siblings look smaller and smaller.

Diego who's hand is still clenched on a knife just stares like he's trying to tell himself that he's having a bad dream.

Her father takes a step towards them, his eyes hard set on eating them alive. "You are all a bunch of cowards," he says and they all flinch away except Five. "I give you a day alone, unsupervised and you do nothing but mope around, living some stupid fantasy you dreamed up on one of your drunken escapades," he almost growls out, displeasure rattles his body.

"It isn't like that!" Five growls, Taking a step closer to their father as if he had gotten back his lost confidence, but he hadn't really. His voice still trembles, a little, if you didn't know him you wouldn't even realize that he's pushing his own boundaries but following blindly has never been his thing. "We didn't have enough time to formulate a plan!"

Her father doesn't look impressed. "You are a terrible liar Five," her father said, venom lacing itself in his voice, "why don't you just tell the truth, is it that hard?"

Five bites his lip as her father takes a step closer to him.

"It's okay to admit it," he said, leaning into Five's personal space. "You crave attention," her father whispers and she barely hears it.

"Father..." Luther whispers, his thought drifting off and his mouth closes. He looks down, stares at the floor as he crinkled his eyebrows.

Five looks away.

She can't help but think that her father is right. The only time he ever gives them any real attention is when they are misbehaving, it would make sense for them to connect the two together.

It's as she's having these thoughts, these overly distracting thoughts that her sister moves. Allison walks forward in one clean motion, placing a hand on her father's chest, clenching it in the fabric and leans up. 

For a whole moment time slows down, and all she can imagine is her sister leaning up to kiss her father. Allison leans to his ear instead and starts to whisper as she brings up her other hand to cover up the words as if telling a dirty little secret.

He went rigid at first but as she spoke his body slowly relaxed and the fire left his eyes, but they didn't glaze over. She keeps looking at him, looking for signs that she's rumoring him but she sees none. At least he doesn't share that same glazed look the hotel's owner did.

She wonders if her sister is whispering sweet nothings inside his ear. 'Love me, please!' She imagines her sister saying to him, begging him to just give her the same care she's given to her nagging ordinary sister.

It hurts.

Her sister pulls away, her smile almost seeming to be painted on- as if she's trying so hard not to frown.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to her father as he stares at her. His face painted with indifference, his body relaxed, almost soft.

"It makes no difference," her father says, swallowing down her words as if they were nothing. Allison looks down at the floor before taking a step to be by his side.

"Are you-you here to take us...home?" Diego stutters clenching his knife as if it was a lifeline but that's all. It stays by his side and he doesn't even seem to register the thought that it's a weapon and not a support teddy bear.

"Why would I want to take any of you home? No, if I forced you to return you'd all be nothing but liabilities." He opens his coat and gets something from an inner pocket, it's a piece of paper. He hands it to Five, who simply takes it, looks it over, and tilts his head.

"You want freedom? A normal life? You can have it."

"What?" Five narrows his eyes at the paper.

"It's the address for an apartment complex where all of you could go and live if you so choose. Ask Six he knows all about it."

Ben doesn't speak.

Luther tilts his head at Allison.

"Seven," her father says as he begins to leave, walking to the door giving her a sense of dread and relief. "Follow me if you so desire," and she does. She follows behind, Allison follows behind her, and somewhere in between Luther tags along too.

Nobody else moves.

Nobody else wants to go home.

Nobody else is diluted with her father's words, nobody else has been taken in by his touch. 

It's only her that's been polluted by him but she thinks, for a moment, that even if he hadn't infected her she'd still want to go back. If her brain worked normally, if her body was just ordinary, she'd still want to be by his side.

At home.

Her home.

She turns to look at Klaus who has a frown pasted on his face. "Please stay," he says, tilts his head as he gives those puppy eyes. "I can't-" he swallows as tears prick his eyes.

"I can't follow you," he swallows again, "I've always wanted to leave..." he whispers as if he's trying to justify his decision to stay to her.

She doesn't need that from anyone. She gets it, understands why he wouldn't want to follow her because self-preservation is a natural human trait, one which she seems to lack. He doesn't have to be guilty for being normal.

He was trying to tell her he isn't strong enough to follow her where she's going, and she accepts that without any hard feelings.

"It's okay," she whispers back and he just looks even sadder. 

"Have you lost your mind? If you go back then what? You and dad go on a honeymoon?" Five is yelling at her, her and no one else. She feels attacked, she furrows her eyebrows as she takes a step back.

"Five!" Klaus growls to him, telling him to shut up. Five just glares at him.

"No...no of course not." She whispers and Five takes a step closer to her. 

"Then what? What do you expect to happen?" She doesn't know, she doesn't know and really doesn't want to think about it.

Her father keeps walking, Luther keeps following, Allison keeps smiling. They don't even flinch when she stops to get lectured. Clearly, that set of siblings has chosen their side and it isn't hers.

She can't even comprehend that right now.

"I don't know," she swallows and her throat burns from the acid that continues to jump up her throat. "I'm extraordinary," the words tumble out as if they were anything worthy of a response but it's the only thing on her mind.

"And?"

"And?" She repeats back to him and he takes another step closer.

"Don't tell me you believe he's going to help you. I'll tell you what he's going to do, He's going to lock you away and tell you you're dangerous, that you need 'special training'" he makes some hand gesture as he speaks and she shakes her head.

"You're wrong," she takes a step back, she has to hurry, if she doesn't catch up with her father he'll leave her behind.

"He's going to rub a hand between your legs until you-" he doesn't get another word out before she slaps him.

She shivers, tears running down her face because she's so angry. "Shut up!" She screams at him, as she pries her hand off his skin and a red hand glows on his cheek.

He looks so...shocked, his mouth opens but he can't even formulate a word.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" She turns around and runs. Five is such an idiot, talking to her like that. Feeding her such disgusting words as if that would make her want to stay.

Diego stutters something but she doesn't understand it.

"Vanya!" Klaus yells after all but she doesn't care anymore.

"You're an idiot!" Five's voice projects down the hallway and she palms the tears that roll down her face. A blue light appears in front of her and out pops Five, grasping her hand with a bruising grip.

"Why are you so stupid? We want to help you, he wants to possess you!" She tries to take her hand back, watching as down the hall her father makes a turn with Allison and Luther in tow.

He's going to leave her behind.

"Let go Five!" She pulls her hand again and again but he doesn't let up.

Her father is leaving her.

"Let go!" She screams leaning back, pulling even harder as the light bulbs start to flicker.

"You belong somewhere nice Vanya, I won't let you go back to that hellhole."

"Five please let go," she begs, her hands shaking, small whimpers fall out of her mouth because his grip hurts.

"No."

The lights start to break, one by one, darkness slowly descends over the hallway and she growls. "Let me go," she pulls on her hand and he lets go.

He looks at her, eyeing her up while she starts to walk away, her heart trampled in her chest. 

It was scary.

The way she felt something spark inside her chest, like a gathering of her emotions and then it overfilled. She doesn't know how to deal with that, or this. The fact that she's avoiding glass that she was the cause of.

How is she supposed to rationalize this?

Is she dangerous? Is her stupid brother right? Should she be locked up? No, she shouldn't right? She just needs training, she doesn't know how to use her powers yet.

Her father will give her training.

He'll teach her how to control her powers.

She walks past the hotel's owner who has stood up, gawking at the hallway, at the mess scattered on the floor. She wants to apologize but she doesn't.

She walks out the door, stands for a minute in the breeze until it hits her. No one is here, her father left without her...how cruel. 

It hurts, her emotions ball up in her chest so painfully that she kneels just pressing a hand against her chest. It keeps growing, each moment her heartbeat increases and her thoughts just keep getting louder.

She breathes heavily trying to calm down before the emotions overflow out of her chest. She can't handle this, she can't take this. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do or how to turn off her powers.

There's a crack, the sidewalk beneath her groans.

She trembles pressing her hands harder into her chest. She needs her father, she needs him to help her, she's so scared.

She's scared of herself.

She made Five upset, she could have hurt him and all he was doing was trying to help.

She's dangerous.

Something touches her.

She flinches, closing her eyes shut as if that helped her. She turns around and bats it away in one motion. Something splatters on her, it's warm and...metallic. The person yells, and they stumble back and fall.

She opens her eyes, and sees Diego, clenching his eye as blood runs down his cheek. Blood is on her, this blood is his, she did this to him.

"I'm so sorry," she starts to sob, crawling over to him, just wanting to comfort him, to look at his eye, to see what she did.

He backs away from her, his visible eye wide with fear. "Don't come near me!" His voice is a whimper before he hisses from the pain.

"I didn't mean to!" She says tries to come closer only for him to back away.

"I'm so sorry!" She said standing, turning around and running.

She's a monster.

She's dangerous.

She should be locked up.

She hurt him, hurt him when he came to comfort her.

What she did is unforgivable.

She runs as her ball of emotions becomes unraveled in her chest. Light poles creak and bend when she runs by them but she pays them no mind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Self Harm Warning]

She walks down the steps of a peer, rain pouring down on her, soaking her hair so that it's plastered against her forehead. How fitting, she thinks as she looks at rushing water, contaminated with human filth. Cans, bottles, and other trash litter it.

She doesn't care about that.

She wanders inside the water, not even flinching when she feels how icy it is, she's already soaked. She keeps walking until the water is to her knees before she leans down and scrubs at her hands.

The blood underneath her nails is Klaus's.

The blood on her hands and arms is Diego's.

She keeps scrubbing without any other thoughts. She's a monster, this is her sibling's blood she's washing off her own hands.

She caused them pain.

She made everything worse.

This is all her fault.

She laughs, laughs as she thinks to herself that some god is looking down on her right now, looking down at her and turning up their nose because of how disgusting she is. That's why it's raining- she doesn't deserve nice things.

Klaus has to know he's wrong now, it's her fault and he knows it.

She scrubs, and digs her nails underneath her other nails, again and again until she's sure that all of Klaus's blood has washed away.

Then she stares at her hands, clean, the water now pink around them. These mounds of flesh are tainted, she doesn't deserve them. Her reflection is so ugly, and she feels as if maybe she looks more mature now.

She isn't sure that's true, considering everything, but she knows she feels so many things right now. She wonders if her whole life was a lie if she's been taking power inducers or what not her father had said, then does she not have anxiety?

Has it just been her? Is that it? Her anxiety is just an extension of herself right? She's been blaming the horribleness of her life on some imaginary problem.

He lied to her.

That hurts.

She has more important problems, ones that matter, like how horribly she treated her brothers, her family.

She reaches underneath the water and grasps a shard of a broken glass bottle and sets that against her wrist. She's going to make it up to her brother's. She's going to make everything better, she's going to do this for them.

They can't forgive her if she doesn't show them she's sorry.

She slides the glass across her skin, blood starts to drip down her wrist, and it hurts like a paper cut. She mumbles underneath her breath while she looks at the mark she made.

One cut for one sin.

She just needs a hundred more and she'll be pure again.

She brings the glass down again, underneath the cut she already made before she starts to slide it against her skin. 

"Vanya!" 

She jumps, the glass goes too far into her skin, thunder crackles while tears prick her eyes. It hurts so much but she can't focus on that.

"Vanya!" She tilts her head, looks at Klaus, her stupid brother. He's panting, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, rain droplets roll down his face and the skirt is drenched, clinging to his legs. He starts to run down the stairs, she turns and runs deeper into the water.

The water starts splashing around behind her.

She stumbles, dropping the glass as the water grows deeper.

A hand catches her arm before she's turned around and shoved against his chest. "What are you doing? Why are you running away?" He hugs her tightly against him. "Do you know how worried I was? Jesus, I wasn't serious!" He grasps her wrist that's bleeding with his hand already covered in his blood, he puts pressure on her wrist.

"I just thought you'd stay if I said I was! If you want to go home I'll go too!" He is panting, holding her tightly as water rushes around them. She can barely breathe right now.

"Five is an asshole don't let him get to you," he says, pressing his hand tighter on her wrist.

The water seems so loud.

It echos in her ears.

The cold travels up and down her body.

"Sorry," she rasps out and he clenches a hand in her back.

"Tell me what you need," he whispers against her and her arm starts to burn.

"A doctor I think."

"That's the spirit," he chuckles as he guides her out of the water and once they are on to the grass he grasps the skirt and rips a strip of it off. He wraps that around her wrist and ties it tight.

"Hey!"

Ben stands at the top of the stairs, his face red as he takes in deep breathes.

She's causing so many problems.

"How did you find me," she whispers to Klaus as she shivers, her teeth begin to chatter.

"You've kinda made a trail with bent light posts," she blushes, her emotional ball twisting inside of her, "kinda cool if you ask me," he grins, patting her head like she's a small child getting a reward.

"Isn't it scary..."

"No?" He said but it sounded like a question and not a statement.

She rubs her wrist as Ben walks down the stairs.

"I'm dangerous..." she whispers, clenching a hand around herself as she takes a step back. She shouldn't be around anyone. "I hurt Diego."

Ben places a hand on her back, preventing her from bolting.

"Diego is fine," Ben rubs circles on her back. "You just startled him a little that's all."

"But there was blood! I hurt him," she presses her nails into her palm. 

"He's going live, at most he'll end up with a scar," Ben says wiping rain out of his eyes.

"It's all my fault..."

"Nobody is blaming you!" Klaus grasps her hand, stopping her from pressing her nails so deeply inside her skin. He rubs the fingernail indents on her palm. "Diego is fine, he isn't mad, he's actually happy, whether or not you believe that."

She doesn't.

She takes a deep breath.

"Those apartments are actually nice but the people are practically living in a cult." Ben laughs, breaking the tension as he speaks. "Let's go home..." he offers her a hand, she takes it and he rubs it as he walks. 

Klaus leans on her as they walk, sharing his body heat which seems so much warmer than normal.

She knows he is lying.

He was completely serious when he said he didn't want to go home, when he tried so hard to justify his reason for staying.

She feels guilty for this, knowing he's doing this for her not because he wants to.

They all are going to act like everything is fine and dandy because she's sensitive right now. It is selfish of her to accept any of this.

She'd never say it out loud but it feels good to be selfish.

————————————————————

Everything seems so loud.

Cars zooming past, doors opening and closing, water rushing down the streets, and the rain landing on parked cars. Every sound is burrowing itself deep inside her ears, making her ball of emotions hurt.

She's scared, so scared that she could accidentally hurt her siblings...again.

They are walking home.

Cold, drenched and hurt.

She shivers as she looks towards the ground and hears each and every step on the concrete. It fills her up, pushing her emotional ball around.

"I'm scared," she whispers through chattering teeth.

"Of?" Klaus whispers against her, leaning more heavily into her.

"Myself."

He stays silent for a moment.

Ben holds her hand tighter as he guides them home.

"Yeah..."

"Yeah?" She asks, her heart dropping in her chest. Is he agreeing with her?

"Yeah."

She tilts her head to look at him and he's giving her a soft smile. “That’s what's it like to be extraordinary. You are always scared because you can see things other people can't, you can do things you aren't supposed to do, and you feel things no one else will ever feel," he places his hand around her arm while he speaks. "It's going seem unbearable at first but it gets better with time."

She nods.

Ben makes a noise of agreement.

She feels...better.

————————————————————

Their house is big, it looms over them, looking so much scarier than she remembers it. It makes her doubt her resolve, maybe she should stay away. Her gut feeling is telling her to but before she has a chance to really think about it Ben is guiding them inside the gate before knocking on the door of the house.

Despite living here their father wouldn't be happy if they just wandered in.

The door clicks, it opens, and behind it is Allison. She smiles at them softly, the air around her is...different? It's chilling, unsettling to look at.

She knows she's right when Allison takes a step and engulfs her in a hug. A hug that soaks her, a hug that makes her unclean. She trembles, hating that she's in this embrace, but somehow it feels good.

She wraps a hand around Allison's back, shoves her face against her sister's neck as she breathes. She wonders, wonders if this is supposed to feel this good. 

"You know, "Allison whispers into her hear, caressing her back in comforting motions. "I never hated you, I'm just getting over some personal problems."

She laughs, in the confines of her mind of course as she feels her ball of emotions twist inside. Does her sister really expect her to believe that?

She smiles against her neck, trying so hard to be happy about these lies. 

Allison always lies.

"You've been through so much," her sister whispers in her ear, as she realizes that Ben and Klaus is gone. She tilts her head, looking, feeling dread enter her system. Then she sees that they've walked inside to dry off.

She sighs.

"It's okay if you just want to forget," her sister brings a hand up to rub at her head, "I can make you forget."

She shakes her head no.

Her sister narrows her eyes.

"You'd feel so much better!" Her sister said taking a step back, glaring at her. "I just want to help! You're the only sister I have why can't I help you?"

She takes a step back.

"Why do I even bother? Dad wasn't even this hardheaded!"

"What?" She sputters as thunder crackles and rain seems to pour down on her even heavier. "What are you saying?"

"I've already rumored him. He doesn't remember a thing."

She doesn't say anything.

She takes a step back, looking at her sister as if...as if she never knew her. Why...why would she do this?

How is...how is she supposed to be angry at him? How is she supposed to look at him like it's his fault when he doesn't even remember? How is she supposed to get revenge if he's just a blank slate now?

She takes another step back.

Klaus squeezes through Allison and walks down the stairs grabbing her hand lightly. "Everything is fine, come on you need to get your wrist checked out."

She cries but the rain covers up her tears. She lets Klaus guide her inside.

She doesn't look at Allison.

————————————————————

Her mother is overjoyed at her return, she gives lots of kisses and a big bear hug. It hurts and she winces from the pain of being suffocated.

"Sorry," her mother whispers as she pulls back and starts to examine her wrist like she's supposed to. She leans it up, looks at the marks, and tilts her head.

Klaus sits beside her on this cot because he has to get his wrist looked at too and that makes her feel bad.

"How did this happen?" Her mother asks her sincerely.

"I..." she blushes and doesn't say anymore, she couldn't.

Her mother doesn't ask but she rubs the cut lovingly before adding an ointment to it and bandaging it up. 

Klaus leans into her while their mother does the same thing with his arm.

She feels so empty.

She has a ball inside of her, it twists and turns but she doesn't know what she's supposed to do with it. She feels it churning, breaking a little when she notices Diego, asleep in a bed behind them.

If she wasn't so self-centered she would have noticed sooner.

His one eye is bandaged up, she can't see what she did but it must have been bad. Ben just wanted to make her feel better.

She trembles, leaning into Klaus, it's only a matter of time before everyone hates her. She's done something terrible.

————————————————————

She walks out of the infirmary with her brother leaning on her, which she isn't sure why really. She figures he thinks this is comforting, which in a way it is. Nobody has ever really wanted to be around her like this before so it's nice.

Five is leaning against the opposite wall, his eyes closed until he hears their footsteps. He looks to them, his lips a thin line as he stares.

She doesn't know why but she takes a step back.

Klaus takes her hand in his.

"Just here to apologize," Five said leaning off of the wall and taking a step towards them. "I was out of line no doubt but I was only telling the truth."

She doesn't speak.

Five takes another step and looks down at her like she's a disappointment. "Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?"

She looks to him, her eyes wide as she takes another step back.

Five shakes his head and turns away. He walks down the hallway, leaving those hurtful words in the air.

She takes a deep breath.

She can't even begin to understand all of her feelings right now but she knows she's not truly happy. She's done terrible things, she's made everyone come back.

Like her father had once said all it takes is one disgruntled soldier, one wronged civilian, or one wounded child to end an empire. She figures that's how rebellions end too.

She was that wounded child, a catalyst for all of these awful things.

————————————————————

She sits on her hard wooden floors while Klaus braids her hair with unsteady hands. She's sure he doesn't really know what he's doing but is trying to anyway- for her. He's trying to make her feel better, welcomed in her own home.

She closes her eyes as he messily intertwines strains of her hair together.

She rubs a hand on her new skirt, which she isn't exactly happy about but she was drenched. He changed into pants but he didn't really seem to be entirely unhappy about that.

Just strange.

She feels so stupid now that she's not emotional. She wonders what she was thinking if she had lost all of her brain cells when she decided to come back here. How selfish she is for causing so much pain and heartache to everyone.

It's all going to waste anyway, if her father really doesn't remember.

She licks her lips, listening to her brother's heartbeat. It is steady in his chest, just a constant thumping that sounds so good to her, calming in its own way but also unsettling. She knows she isn't supposed to be able to hear it but she does.

She tries not to think about it too much.

She feels strangely weak, ordinary, it's still prodding at her heart. Where is her father? Is he going to train her now? Is he going to lock her away? Is she supposed to be this scared?

She doesn't know.

Her stomach rolls and she rubs the bandages around her wrist, it stings.

If her father doesn't remember touching her, if he doesn't remember going inside of her and making her bleed, if he doesn't then...

She bites her lips as Klaus tugs a little too hard.

She's having negative thoughts but they are very real concerns. Should she let Allison take away her pain too? If he could have his guilt removed maybe it's only right that she has hers removed.

She doesn't want to remember really but being rumored sounds scary. Just a little bit, although she doesn't think it actually hurts.

She looks towards her open door, watches Allison walk into her room, a frown on her face, the scratch on her face already scabbing, and a hand across her stomach. She looks almost defeated and it's a little unnerving.

Where is Luther?

Where is her father?

Is it okay for her to make the decision all on her own? Whether or not to have her memories zapped away? If her father gets that luxury she wants it too.

To forget about her filth, the sins the cover her body inside and out.

She wants that so much.

She just wants to be normal again.

————————————————————

She waits until Klaus leaves to use the bathroom. He tells her not to move, to stay there, that he'll be back soon.

She doesn't listen.

She stands, watches as her brother disappears down the hallway before moving to her sister's door and knocking. She hears nothing.

She grasps the handle and opens the door, slowly, looking at her sister laying on her bed, a hand over her eyes and a frown on her lips. She opens the door more, it groans and her sister removes the hand from her eyes to look at her.

"Vanya," her sister says cooingly as she sits up, a sad smile on her lips. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just wanted to help you. I don't mean to force my problems on you." She says her eyes not looking at her.

"No, I..." she swallows as she takes another step inside, a blush overtakes her cheeks as she looks down. "I want that, it sounds good...to forget."

Her sister is silent.

A bird chirps outside.

Her sister pats the bed beside her.

She walks slowly and sits beside her sister as she listens to her sister's heartbeat. It's fast, roughly beating inside her chest. A hand is placed on her cheek and it rubs in comforting motions.

"This won't hurt," her sister said using light pressure to get her to look her in the eyes. "It'll be quick and easy before you know it you won't even remember that you've spent the last week in...pain," she said leaning her head against hers, and just breathing for a moment before leaning back and speaking.

"I heard a rumor you-"

That's all she heard.

That's all she could comprehend before her brain stopped recording. Her vision blurred, her ears popped, and she threw a hand over her forehead as the room started to spin.

She feels strange, looking at her sister who was looking at her so kindly. "I'm so sorry," her sister says, rubbing a hand along her back but she doesn't understand why her sister is being like this.

She takes a deep breath as her body starts to feel heavy, her mind slows down, and then she doesn't know.

The world went quiet around her as the air seem to shift and then she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get really mind fucky and I’m sad inside.
> 
> The ending I had planned is give or take two chapters away, and a total mind fuck that will leave you going what the actual fuck but I’m kinda leaning on going with a different ending since Vanya deserves so much better. I’m not sure though so just be prepared for your heart to break.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an emotional mess now and I apologize for this chapter.
> 
> So I did some planning and decided to go with a little bit of a lighter ending. There will be a few extra chapters now for maximum comfort and angst.
> 
> The first half of this chapter is mind fucky, the second half is angst and a little non con.

She didn't really blackout but that's the best way to describe the experience. One moment she was her and the next she wasn't, everything suddenly changed but at the same time, it didn't.

She wants to forget, a little voice in her mind tells her to. She isn't sure what she's supposed to be forgetting. But for a moment she assumes it's her ordinariness.

It's that stigma that follows her, the shadow that overtakes her light. She's spent her whole life being told she is useless, a worthless member of a family who doesn't want her. It's hard to keep going, it's hard to keep smiling when you know you don't belong.

She never did.

She tries so hard to forget all that, to let it just fall over her like water and drip off but it just keeps sticking to her. Why is it so hard to get rid of?

...

She's looking up to the night sky, it's covered with stars and the concrete of the rooftop is cold on her back. Her head is on someone's arm, she doesn't have to look to know it's Klaus because he reeks of cigarettes.

Gross.

It's nice though, star gazing.

Someone is on her other side, Allison she assumes from the curly hair that tickles her. Her sister is warm, calm, and staring into the stars with her.

"Want another sip?" Klaus says, his chest vibrating from his words. "Vanya?"

She looks up at him, he's holding out a beer can for her, she shakes her head.

"Your lost," he dips his head back and drinks the beer down, some of it dribbles down his chin.

"You really shouldn't be drinking," Diego says from the other side of Klaus, he's leaning up on his arms and giving Klaus a glare. There's a nice scab on his eye that will no doubt be a scar, she looks at it, tilts her head as she wonders when that happened.

It makes her feel guilty for not noticing before. If she was a better sister she would have. Can she blame this on her ordinariness?

She looks back to the stars as Klaus laughs.

"This is stupid," Five says from the other side of Luther who is beside Allison. "Not to burst anyone's bubble but how is this supposed to work?" 

"Shut up," Luther says nudging Five's arm.

"Don't ask me to help when this all comes crashing down," Five mutters spitefully, rolling over and laying on his side away from his siblings.

"Children," Her father says sternly and her heart jumps, she hadn't realized he was here. He's standing against the roof's border wall, a hand on his cane and his eyes narrowed at them. 

Everyone goes silent.

Her father looks back to the stars in the sky, he looks at them almost in longing. It's a nice, serene look on his face as he leans on the wall just a little.

It's a calming air that settles over everything.

She feels strange here though, for a strange reason it seems so foreign to her. She can't pinpoint why, or where to start with the fogginess that has settled over her mind.

She rolls over towards Klaus, looks at him, blushes, and feels so small. Why is he being so nice to her? He's never mean but he's never nice either.

This isn't right she thinks idly but at the same time, she can't help how happy this makes her. She presses a hand against his chest experimentally, he doesn't say anything so she leaves it there while she closes her eyes.

She hopes for sleep but knows it may not come because of her anxiety. Demons live in her mind, they crawl around and tell her bad things. She feels better when she's around her siblings.

————————————————————

She awakes to Allison pushed up against her back and Klaus snoring in her ear. She stretches before wiggling out of this dogpile, it makes her uncomfortable.

The sun is just raising and to her dismay, her father is still here, except now he's leaning against the wall and staring at them, at her. She blushes, she absolutely can't stand being stared at.

Then it hits her, the urge to throw up, her stomach churns and she stands and runs beside her father, leaning over the wall as she empties her stomach. It tastes disgusting, and her throat starts to burn.

Her father just looks at her.

She closes her eyes for a minute, hoping that her head stops spinning. Lucky it does but she still feels terrible.

"Seven," her father says and she looks towards him as she wipes off her lips. She feels disgusting and so confused, she doesn't know why she would be sick like this. "Are you feeling alright?" He says and she nods.

"Good," he says leaning off the wall, and squaring his shoulders to look as proper as he can.

"The bags underneath your eyes aren't attractive Seven," he says pressing a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her pale skin. She shivers, smiling to herself, it's nice to be spoiled like this.

"You're cold," she whispers as her breath makes a little fog cloud to form from her lips, her hands rub against her side in an attempt to produce heat.

Her father says nothing, his hand sitting gently on her cheek as if it belongs there and a finger rubbing gently across her lips. Her lips are chapped...she really needs to stop biting them.

————————————————————

Her father sits on a living room couch, in the middle, still, looking at his children with his eyes narrowed. The fire crackles and pops while they all stand in line. She swallows down her unease.

"Happy Birthday!" Luther screams first, then everyone else follows. She tries her best to make herself heard but she is easily drowned out by her siblings.

Her father frowns.

Her heart thumps in her chest, louder and louder, it's afraid of being yelled at. She isn't sure she could take it, she's so fragile and ordinary.

He drops the frown, he looks towards the fire for a moment as a small smile grows across his lips. It's small, eerie in its own way but just so him. It's nice, she wishes he would have one more often.

"Thank you," he says to no one in particular.

She takes a deep breath, smelling cake, freshly baked cake her mother made. She's a good cook although most of the time she's never allowed to actually cook. Oatmeal is so disgusting and she used to be forced to eat that every day.

That was one of her least favorite times.

Her mother stands in the archway, a pure smile on her lips as she starts to laugh sweetly. "The cake is ready," she turned around before excusing herself.

They don't move a muscle.

"Well?" Her father says grasping his cane and standing up. "Didn't you hear your mother? It's time for cake," he says and they begin to walk.

Her mouth waters and she feels all warm and fuzzy inside. It's been so long, his birthday always sneaks up on her. He's never said yet, how old he is and always refuses to answer any questions of that nature.

————————————————————

"Yay sisters!" Allison says raising her own fork to her and tapping it off of her fork. 

"Yay sisters?" She asks, tilting her head at her sister. Allison blushes, looking away for a moment before looking back and nodding.

"Yay sisters it is!" She clicks her fork off of her sister's fork and receives a nice smile.

She eats cake, it's vanilla with buttercream icing, nothing fancy. Her father hasn't eaten any but this is her second piece. It's just so good, sweet and rich. There aren't many times when she can legally eat sweets so she has to take what she can get.

"Don't eat too much," Klaus says, his cheeks a redden tint because he's been drinking. He stinks like alcohol but their father hasn't said a word yet. "You'll get a tummy ache," he continues before laughing at himself.

She nods to him.

There's music playing, it's soft classic music she actually likes. She hums the tone as she looks out to the grand hallway. Her mother holds Diego's hands, guiding him in the art of slow dancing. His movements are sluggish, he keeps stepping on his mother's shoes and stuttering apologies.

She smiles, it looks so sweet and loving that she just can't help it.

Five is sitting on a chair at the table, he's pouting, stabbing his cake because he's angry. It makes her so upset to see him like this, she hates it, just wants to ask what's wrong but doesn't want to bring herself down.

She'll make sure to talk to him after the 'party.'

Luther tugs on Allison's hair she glares and slaps his chest. He laughs, extending his hand towards her in offering she takes it and they go off into the hall to dance.

She watches them.

Their movements are practiced, proper, only a little bit sloppy but for the most part they look beautiful, peaceful even.

"It's good," Klaus groans, shoveling another piece of cake in his mouth.

Ben flips a page in his book as he nibbles on the cake over his plate.

Five stops tapping on his cake.

Her father stands, leaving his cane leaned up against the table before walking towards her. She flinches, siting up a degree straighter as she tries her best to look proper.

He extends a hand towards her, just as Luther had done and her heart skips a beat. "Will you share a dance with me?" He asks and she smiles before placing her hand in his and getting up.

He pulls gently and she holds his hand tighter before he stops in the middle of the hallway. His right hand trailing down her body before settling on her left side and his left hand gingerly grasping her right hand. She wraps her free hand around his back although she believes more traditionally you'd wrap it around the shoulders.

This is just a father and daughter dance so she can bend the rules, right? she wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable nor herself. It'd be weird and she won't make it weird.

Her father likes classical dancing styles, he always has although he usually isn't interested in performing them.

He stares at her, his eyes locked with hers as he takes a step towards her and she takes a step backward, they move like that in sync. It's smooth, almost gliding moments they make as they go back and forth in circular motions. She tries her best to keep up with him and be as smooth as he is but she isn't.

She's still so inexperienced that sometimes she messes up, steps on his foot or moves back too soon. Her heart jumps each time and her father gives her a glare.

She swallows down all that and tries her best anyway. She's happy, so happy to be close to him like this. Even if he only chose her because she was ordinary and actually had a clue on how slow dancing worked.

They move in time with the music, a classic piano song that she doesn't know the name of. She won't ask because he'd probably look at her like she's an idiot considering she's studying classical music.

She gets this weird vibe as if she's being stared at, and she is.

Everyone else has stopped dancing.

They are looking at her.

She blushes and smiles back at them, trying so hard to not be self-conscious. For once in her life, she thinks as he rubs her right hand so Lovingly that her siblings are jealous of her.

That's a strangely good feeling.

Her father leans down and whispers in her ear.

————————————————————

She runs her fingers through her hair as she cuts off one of the blooming roses in the backyard. These small bushes are gifts to their father, the only gifts he's ever seemed happy about.

It makes her upset to think that considering she had no say in them.

She takes the rose that she had just beheaded, and cuts off the thorns on the stems. She rubbed her hands up and down the smooth stems afterward, making sure it was completely safe before she stuck it loosely in her hair.

She smiles as she spins around.

She feels beautiful.

Her father was right, she feels as if maybe these roses suit her so well. She'll have to thank him for allowing her the opportunity to use them as accessories.

————————————————————

She isn't sure what happened but whatever it was is bad. She was only gone for a split moment but she comes back to a terribly thick air, one that threatens to suffocate her.

She takes a step into the kitchen just as her father throws the rest of the cake in the garbage. There are no words, just blank stares as her siblings cringe and look away.

She throws a hand over her mouth, she gasps almost unconsciously.

Her father glares at her then his eyes set on the rose in her hair and he stops. For a moment looking at her strangely, in a way she's not able to explain before he looks away to her siblings.

"How disgraceful," he mutters as he looks at the cake in the trash, broken and disgusting looking now. It's all mushed together but still smells just as delicious.

Klaus looks away, a hand twisting in his pants. "Sorry," he whispers and her father grinds his teeth.

"I couldn't hear you!" 

"Sorry!" Klaus lifts his head and repeats himself.

His father looks at him like he's disgusting before turning away. Grabbing his cane and walking towards her before giving her a look. It's a strange look, one she doesn't understand.

"Seven I've got important things to discuss with you," he says lowly, looking at her as if he's expecting something from her.

She smiles and nods. 

She's always eager to please, to be of some use, to be what he wants her to be.

It's silent behind her for a moment, until there's a big murmur, her siblings are whispering amongst themselves as if spilling dirty little secrets. They must be jealous she thinks, for her to be allowed to be so close to him.

————————————————————

She doesn't know why he's looking at her like this. She tries to smile, tries to be his ordinary little girl but he just isn't bitting. It makes her heartbreak, getting these almost hurtful stares.

She's nothing like the child he had hoped for but...

She looks at the fire, it burns brightly in his office, he sits at his desk writing. He hasn't said anything yet.

It's strange, familiar, a weird air floats in the space between them. It's awkward, almost thick like it could suffocate her. The voice in her brain naws at her again, just telling her to forget.

What is she forgetting?

She leans her head back staring at the ceiling, rubbing her hands on her knees and occasionally playing with the end of her skirt. Her neck itches a little and sitting in the wrong position irritates her bottom but she can't think of any way she could have gotten hurt.

He stops writing and closes the book, putting it away in one of his drawers before he looks at her. He smiles, sorta, she isn't quite sure what's on his lips is one but he hasn't ever been good at that sort of thing.

"The rose suits you well," he says and she feels her cheeks heat up. She looks away, to the side as he smiles more. 

"You look beautiful."

She looks towards her hands that are ruffled in her skirt. "Thank you," she thanks him, honestly, it feels so good to get compliments instead of scoldings.

Her father's mood changes, almost on the drop of a dime, he goes from being calm, soft, to hard, and furious. He frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes narrowing at her and then he slams his hands on his desk. 

She stands, scared, knocking the chair over as she jumps away from him. Her hands out in front of her, half because she's trying to protect herself and half because she's trying to calm him. She doesn't understand what went wrong?

She was spending time with him, they were bonding, for once in her life she thought that her father actually cared for her...

"What was Three thinking? That she could say a few magical words and she would be erased from guilt?" 

She takes another step back, hitting a wall, her hands still outstretched in front of her as her father takes strides towards her. Each step he takes her heart thumps in her chest.

He grasps her hands, pushes them against the wall before his lips end up on hers.

Her eyes are wide, she's confused, her skin is crawling. This is wrong, this isn't how parents kiss their kids. This is how lovers kiss.

Why?

Why is he doing this?

She gets strange visions, of her father kissing her, of her father touching her bare skin. She closes her eyes, clenching her fingernails into her palm while her father pulls away. His hands still keeping her there.

"How ridiculous," he says, shoving his face into her neck, biting down. The sensation makes her shiver, she remembers the way it hurt so much when he did this before. When she bled, when she thought he was going to kill her.

The voice in her mind is loud now, yelling, it keeps telling her to forget. She thinks she's remembering what she had forgotten and it's sickening.

"You can not bury such strong feelings with a poorly constructed rumor."

She feels so sick, feelings are flooding back to her, memories are consuming her sanity. It's all so much. She isn't sure if she can handle it, she's starting to feel light-headed.

He puts both of her hands into one of his palms before sticking a hand between her legs. Rubbing her privates, it feels hot, so hot and gross and sticky.

It's all coming back to her.

"Father..."

He rubs a roughly, red hot sparks crawl up her insides.

"Stop it!"

She wiggles her hands and gets one loose, she hits his chest. He smiles before his hand slips underneath her underwear.

"Why are you-" he presses his lips on her, harshly, she mumbles against him. 

He's done this before.

He's touched her like this, kissed her like this, forced himself inside of her like this.

He sticks a finger inside of her, tears prick her eyes and her knees go weak. She collapses on the floor, he descends with her.

"You...are disgusting!" She says with as much venom and hatred as she could muster. It's different now, she doesn't feel like she owes him anything. She doesn't know what she's doing here, she should run away. He doesn't deserve her heart's worrying.

"I had excepted that truth a great while ago Seven."

There's a pounding on the door.

She looks at him, grinding her teeth as she remembers so many things. Bad things and only one good thing.

She is extraordinary.

She wanted to forget that, it, everything. Because she didn't think she could handle it, but now she knows. She'd rather remember and live through the pain than be a blank slate for him to rewrite.

There's another pounding on the door, someone tries the handle but it's locked. Her father removes his hands from her and holds them up, almost like he's surrendering.

"You are doing excellent Seven. For a while, I was worried about your ability to discern good and bad but you've done well." He stands, wiping his hands off on his pants. She glares at him, feeling the gross slimy feeling that he left on her.

She stands on wobbly feet.

The pounding grows louder, so much louder, the sound echos inside of her ears and she feels...powerful. Her ball of emotions, or maybe sound grows. It's tangled in itself, pulsating, and begging for her to use it.

"What are you now?"

She feels like she could rule the world.

"Is being extraordinary everything you've ever wanted?"

She feels so big, so much like she's on a pedestal...the same one her siblings had stood on for so long. 

"I can help you shape your powers, you know I can."

She knows he can and it sounds wonderful. That's the reason she came back. She wanted that because she had believed herself dangerous.

And she is...isn't she?

A danger to society, an unhinged manic, a powerhouse gone wild. 

She needs his help if she's going to control these powers but she doesn't want it. She wants to leave, to run away, she knows she's made a mistake in coming back here.

There's a snap and the door opens.

Her siblings stand there, red-faced, concerned. She doesn't know why when they were the ones who let her go to this lion's den alone.

How hypocritical she thinks as they rush to her, putting themselves between her father and her. She doesn't need their protection, she doesn't want it, she's extraordinary now.

She is powerful.

She is dangerous.

She could get her own revenge.

Her father hasn't forgotten a thing, Allison just wanted to rid herself of guilt.

Their father goes back to sitting at his desk, there is no fear on his face. He knows they would never hurt him. He represents a line, one that if crossed could never be uncrossed.

"Are you okay?" Klaus examines her and she looks at him, her powerfulness almost draining away. She feels lifeless.

"Seven," her father says and everyone tenses up. "You haven't answered me yet. Just who are you now?"

"I'm..."

She feels the heat from her starring siblings.

"I'm...more than I've ever been."

He tilts his head, looking at her before leaning back in his chair. "I suppose then you'll want a spot on the Umbrella Academy?" 

She nods.

"That's too dangero-" Luther is interrupted by their father.

"Of course you can."

"You aren't serious..." Diego mumbles, narrowing his eyes, and she sees that terrible mark she gave him. 

"She isn't ready for that," Allison says, gesturing at her like that means anything.

"Fair points but you have no say here."

Why are they speaking against her? Why can't they for once be on her side? Is it so hard to accept that she could be one of them? Why is it always like this?

They rush into to save her only realize they don't really care for her. They only like her when she lets them step all over her, if she really got the spotlight they'd hate her guts.

"You can't just make her a superhero and expect everything to be water under the bridge." Five says, taking a step towards their father.

"I will not tolerate being forgiven so I believe that's just fine with me. In fact, I believe proper apologies should be in order...in due time."

There's a knock on the door, or at least what's left of it. "Sweethearts?" Their mother says so softly to them, her voice almost melting all of the tension in the room.

"Won't you all join me for some tea?" She says, her smile is painted on, she just wants to diffuse the situation but it's hurting her heart.

Her father pulls out his journal and starts to write.

Klaus pushes on her, a frown on his lips as he makes her follow their mother.

————————————————————

No.

Her mother holds out to her a suitcase, a smile on her face.

No this can't happen to her.

"Here you go darling," her mother says, wiping fake tears from her face. "You've grown up so fast."

"No..."

Her siblings look at her with a mix of regret and happiness. Her stomach dips, she shakes, she doesn't want to leave.

"Inside contains all you need to go to saint Sarah's, you'll be happy there...free."

"I don't want to go!" She looks away, biting her tongue.

For the first time in her life she's finally extraordinary, she's finally able to be something more, to be a part of the Umbrella Academy...Her father is just going to send her away? He's going to rip the opportunity right from underneath her feet?

She was so close.

She is so close she can practically feel how good the pedestal feels to stand on.

"Please, I want to stay!"

"You need to go, you'll be happier there," Luther says like he knows how she feels but he doesn't.

"I can rumor you again..."

"NO!" She cringed when she heard her voice echo back to her. She is terrified of being another blank slate. To be ordinary again.

"We are just looking out for you," Diego smiles, walking forward before putting a knife in her hands. "A going-away present."

She throws it on the floor, the blade snaps off.

"Stop it."

Klaus doesn't say a word.

"Sweetie." Her mother says, sternly, as if scolding her and it makes her feel guilty for a moment. "It's time for you to leave."

Her mother forces the suitcase into her hands before grasping her wrist and dragging her to the front door and out of its embrace. A limousine is outside and the driver is holding open a door. Her mother drags her through the gate and throws her into the limousine and the driver shuts the door.

It's locked. 

She pounds on the window, tears now running down her face as she begs them to let her stay. It hurts, she feels weak, her suitcase glows and starts to shake but she can't focus.

She is so angry.

She has been betrayed.

She knows deep down that this is for the better and that's why it hurts her so much. She watches her siblings grow smaller and smaller as she cries her eyes out until her heart feels as if it's never going to beat the right way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll spell check this tomorrow. I’m so sorry about any major typos.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking so long but for some reason my motivation always dies at the end of my stories. Anyway I love Allison with the passion of a thousands suns but I know this story is not painting her in a good light and I apologize for that.

She is still crying when the limousine cold stops not even after what seems like five minutes. She's confused, can't help but crinkled her eyebrows as a sense of drowsiness falls over her. Then she notices it, there's...smoke being blown in the limousine from a vent. 

She stares at it, her eyes puffy, her cheeks soaked. She blinks, her vision blurring so much that she isn't sure if what she's seeing is what she's seeing.

She yawns, scooting down to look at the smoke...it almost has a blueish tint. 

She smells it, the smell of...lavender. It's a good scent, it calms her, she's not even crying anymore.

Except now she's about to fall asleep...

It hits her, the realization of what this is, what it could be. A trap, a gas chamber, she's being forced into sleep. 

Her heartbeat tries to pick back up but its stuttering in her chest, already numbed. She reaches a hand up to try bang on the glass, her hands barely move. She slouches back against the window, her eyes drifting shut as her vision goes in and out of focus.

She is weak.

————————————————————

She is freezing when she awakes, a greenish tint falls over her surroundings and all she can do is clench her eyes against the bright lights. There seems to be...vials of chemicals that are giving off this green aura.

Cold metal is touching her wrists and ankles, she gets goosebumps from the mere feeling. She tries to wipe a stray hair out of her face, only to realize that she's chained down. Her heart jumps, she clenches her nails into her palms as she starts to feel cold sheets on her back.

She's in nothing but her underwear and bra.

She's...going crazy.

That's it...right?

All of this is just one bad dream.

She tries to do something but she can't, she isn't sure how to use her powers. What even are they? What can she do? She isn't sure but she's scared, she isn't thinking right.

Her breathing picks up as the room starts to seem more and more familiar. She looks to the side, looks to the other, this is...that room isn't it? 

Solitary...this is solitary.

Except all of the glass walls are covered in black sheets now, every single one. There's a small rolling desk that houses a few glowing green vials that cover the room in its tint and the cot is now in the center of the room and she's chained to it.

She pants, her heart working hard to drive oxygen to her body that's cold. She is terrified, it feels sorta like she's on the edge of drowning in an ocean in which she'll never reach the bottom.

She's falling and falling and there's nothing for her to grasp onto.

The door opens, a creek echos around her ears, burrowing inside her mind. It's only a brief moment of light that flashes across the room but it's enough, just enough for her to see her father cast in the shadows.

He looks like he's a monster, a sharp-fanged, red-eyed, nightmare.

Maybe that's all he's ever been.

She freezes, somehow her first thoughts tell her if she doesn't move he won't know she's awake. That could never work because she can't stop trembling.

He says nothing as he walks inside, shutting the door behind him. 

She waits, holding her breath, her world is collapsing around her, suffocating her.

He grabs one of the vials, he swirls it around, looking at it closer before starting to walk to the side of her cot. 

It's quiet.

He says nothing.

There is no explanation, no reason, nothing solid for her to grasp. She's just left in the bottom of the rabbit hole with no hope of ever getting out.

He tilts the vial and she yelps as the green substance starts to drip onto her stomach. It's warm, her stomach begins to tingle in a weird...circular motion. It feels so strange almost like something is swimming inside of her.

She shivers, looking up at him as the tingling turns into burning.

"Please," she whines, clenching her eyes as a flame starts to tug at the knots in her stomach. "What is...what is..."  
She can't speak, it's all too much, she can't do this.

It's just a bad dream, it's just a bad dream, this has to be a bad dream.

It's a nightmare that's it.

"Hurts...it hurts," she groans as her mouth starts to water and the sensation of nausea hits her. "I...father."

He pours the whole vial on her and all she feels is the sensation of a...bug crawling inside of her skin. "Stop, no! Make it stop!" 

She bangs her head back on the pillow, kicks her hands and legs as excruciating pain overtakes her. The metal cuts into her skin making warm blood trickle down her pale skin.

"Please...please," she begs, pleads as she clenches her teeth together. 

It stops.

Just stops with no warning.

The hue on her stomach turned that of toxic green to that of slightly less toxic purple.

Her father places a hand in the substance, rubbing circles in her stomach as she shakes, her body having a rough time coming back down to reality.

"Congratulations," Her father speaks his first words to her and they are brutal. She knows if they were to be a physical thing they would be made of glass because the sharp edges cut into her heart. 

"You are pregnant."

She immediately stops trembling, the word just repeating in her mind again and again.

Pregnant...does that mean she's going to have a baby? That is what that means right? That's what he is saying, isn't it?

He can't really be.

She heard him wrong.

"I want Klaus," she mumbles, ignoring his words. He rubs the substance into her skin without another word.

"I want to see Ben or...or Five," her voice cracks as he turns his hand around and looks at his palm covered with the purple substance.

"I just want to be in bed, I want to play the violin, I just want Luther!"

She isn't crying, she can't anymore, her head is starting to spin.

"Listen to me!" She says banging her feet off of the cot, her father doesn't give her any attention.

"I'll be good, I'll do everything you want, I'll be ordinary again..."

He looks at her before sighing.

"Be quiet," she shuts her mouth. "Your siblings believe you are going to saint Sarah's academy to follow your dreams of becoming a violinist," he almost whispers and all she does is stare.

Stare, breathe, and tell herself she's dreaming.

"As far as they're concerned you are safe and happy..."

He lets a hand rub in her hair she growls and he gives her a soft smile.

"What a little lion you've become," he almost coos, it's disgusting, she cringes as he continues to play with her hair.

"Stop touching me!" She seethes, her body trembling as she's overtaken by anger. He stops, removing his hand from her hair.

"Of course," he says, letting his attention drift back to her stomach as he speaks.

"I am only interested in the being growing inside of you, once it is born you're free to go. You are nothing but an irrational attachment I must break myself of. The being inside you will an adequate if not better replacement."

She shakes her head, clenching her eyes.

She's going to die, she's not okay, she is dying. Nothing happens, she doesn't understand. Why can't her powers work when she wants them to? She needs to escape but no matter how hard she tries nothing happens.

"That isn't going to work," he says, grabbing something off the metal rolling table, something small and white. "Open up," he says, pushing his fingers against her lips, forcing her mouth open as he shoves whatever that is in her mouth.

It's...a pill. It almost tastes like her anxiety meds...in fact, she thinks it is her medication.

She instinctively swallows it down and he removes his fingers from her lips. 

"Good girl," he says, grasping the cart's handle before pushing it out of the room and leaving pitch blackness to surround her. 

She stares into the darkness, feeling her pills filling her with...numbness. Soon she knows she won't feel much of anything but nothing.

She closes her eyes, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

Nobody will come to save her because they all think she is...somewhere better.

————————————————————

"Father!"

It's Allison's voice, loud, static almost like she's saying it underwater. So near yet so far.

She opens her eyes before being blinded by a white aura forcing her to clench her eyes together. She tries to open it again as she hears the sound of faint whispers.

A huge box tv is sitting on the metal rolling desk now, a recording is playing. A recording of Allison, soaking wet, just returned home after betraying her.

Her sister is pulled snug against her father, her father's lips whispering against her ear as Luther stands just a foot away his body tensed up. He almost looks like he's trembling as if maybe he really wants to stop this but his body just won't let him.

"Fath-" Luther starts, taking a step, finally working up the courage to stop whatever this is. He stops speaking when their father releases Allison, she looks at him with big...shining eyes. As if she's...impressed by their father or something.

Her stomach churns watching as Allison smiles. 

"Really? You promise?" Allison says, her voice so sweet and sincere.

Their father nods, his body reflecting that same sincerity that she has.

Allison turns to Luther, smiles, and opens her mouth.

"I heard a rumor you don't believe Vanya anymore."

Luther stills, his eyes almost dulling, only for a moment before his eyes catch on his father walking away.

"Number one, Seven's false accusations are providing a great and unnecessary distraction for your siblings. I require your assistance in planning how to deal with this dilemma." 

Luther nods, following behind his father, off-screen they walk.

Allison takes a breath, closing her eyes before she walks off-screen too.

The tv flickers for a moment before it's back on.

Diego is leaning against Five, his hand against his eye as blood runs down his arm. 

"Fuck," he mutters, his knees giving out as Luther rushes to them, getting there just in time to catch Diego. He picks him up, gently.

"What happened to him?" Luther asks Five who is silent for a moment. "What happened Five?" Luther growls and Five looks away.

"It was an accident," he says, growling back, pushing on Luther's shoulder. "Get him to the infirmary and stop asking stupid questions," Luther opens his mouth but doesn't say anything.

Luther walks off-screen carrying a blacking out Diego.

"Five," Allison says, off-camera, somewhere. 

Five looks up, distaste is written on his face. "It's nice to see you too, Judas. To think you'd end up being ours," he says, his words laced with Venom as he speaks.

"I heard a-" Five presses a hand over his ears "-rumor you don't believe Vanya anymore," his hands drop, he stares. It wasn't enough to block out her voice.

Five looks down at his hand as he makes a fist...then he a punches wall. "Fucking Vanya!" He almost screams, pounding his hands off the wall again, so angry.

"This is all her fault! If she didn't start all this we would all be fine! Our family wouldn't be torn apart right now, Diego wouldn't be lying on a cot bleeding out from his eye!" 

Her heart snaps, it hurts so bad and all she can do is watch...her vision blurs, tears run down her face as the tv flickers off and the room is cast in darkness.

Why?

She cries, closing her eyes, wishing she was dead.

A steady tapping fills the room, it works its way into her ears and she opens her eyes, dreading what she's going to see. Her father is standing against the tv, a hand on top of it, his fingers tapping again and again as he stares.

"Do I need to show you more Seven or do you get it now? You've already lost. Now forget about your siblings they will no longer be your 'saviors' nor should they have ever been."

He stops tapping, the room goes silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos I’m stressed right now so I probably missed a ton. I’ll be back to look over this tomorrow.
> 
> Sidenote/spoilers: this whole part of the plot (pregnancy wise) won’t go super duper dark or result in anything major. Just in case you are mildly concerned. This will literally be not even another chapter before more plot and reveals and super duper plot twists disprove this. Just a disclaimer because this makes me just as uncomfortable as it makes you.


End file.
